


Breakthrough

by gr8escap



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Post-Credits Scene, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8escap/pseuds/gr8escap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been over a year and the reader has been hard at work researching a way to undo what Hydra has done to Bucky's mind</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Steve’s POV**

Steve looked at his phone, often the device was the bearer of bad news, or hard missions, but this one word sent him to his feet faster, even, than the news of Peggy’s death had.

This was a lifeline. King T’Challa’s scientists and psychologists had been working hard to break the code that would release Bucky’s mind. “Breakthrough” was a good word.

* * *

**Reader’s POV**

I spent way too many hours working on the project. Extra hours were spent working at the lab and even more at home. Every morning I would “visit” him. I would stop by the chamber and sit to do any early paperwork. I had thought that maybe motivation, or inspiration, or whatever magic would reveal itself if I just spent enough time working the equation.

He slept, I watched the vitals indicator and told myself it was ok, he had been gently cared for.

Often I would interrupt and derail my own progress, wondering if he'd ever thank the people who would one day manage to free his mind. Would he prefer the peaceful slumber?

It was during those times I would let myself “visit” him again, sometimes dressing in the middle of the night and making the trek from home to the lab. “Bucky, what should I do?” I often heard myself ask the air around his frosty chamber. “You haunt me, I want to help you, to give you your life, but is that just me being selfish?”

What started me on this path? Images from his file? The slight smile I could see through the ice in the chamber? I was drawn to him, despite all of the things I’d seen in his files. I knew they weren’t him, but what was done to him. I couldn’t help myself; I was so bewitched by him.

It was out of this obsession that the answers eventually started to unfurl. I found the handwritten notes in the companion notebook. How I found the book was as convoluted as untangling fairy lights. I’d sit on the floor in the near-dark room where the man’s chamber was, a low light emanated from around his stasis chamber. That and the light from my laptop were all I needed to wile away the night hours.

I searched through files on the internet, I downloaded and decrypted and saved. I analyzed and rearranged and reordered data until the puzzle pieces fit. I needed the book. I needed the information, and even then I’d need help with the psychology of it all.

It was a good thing I was close friends with one of Wakanda’s best psychologists. I called her in the middle of one of those late nights, “I need your help. I have some new information.”

“Of course – but the morning will be better.” Was the normal response to an obsessive personality calling and waking a sane person from a deep sleep.

“I’m so sorry, I just realized how horrible I am. I guess you’re right, I need help. I can wait for morning for both kinds though.” I said pitifully, as I gazed up at the dimly lit chamber, the beautiful man slumbering peacefully inside tugging at my heartstrings.

“You are not horrible. You are sleep deprived though. You cannot do anything for him without your wits. Go home. I will meet you in the morning.”

“Go home.” I echoed, “Yeah, I’ll do that.

I unfolded myself from the floor, retrieved my laptop and as I passed his chamber, my fingers trailed across the cool glass “Sleep well Bucky, I’ll see you in the morning.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Steve’s POV**

Steve arrived in the late afternoon and was greeted by a representative of King T’Challa, “Captain, his highness has sent me to welcome you and to escort you to his apartments. He is in a meeting and will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you. Please, call me Steve.”

“As you wish, Steve.” The man politely replied.

He was left in a grand seating area, he strolled the perimeter of the room, taking in the art and sculptures that dotted the room. His hands were thrust deeply into his pockets and he allowed his shoulders to slump as he stopped at the window and looked out over the valley he’d seen several times in as many visits.

He’d sketched that valley, the view was stunning. There were many sleepless nights, most often interrupted by nightmares, when he would lie awake picturing the scene in an attempt to relax and go back to sleep, only to turn over, flood the room with light, and grab up his sketchbook.

Looking at the art here, he was half-tempted to send one of the many – much improved – sketches to T’Challa and half-tempted to never consider it again.

“I am so sorry to keep you waiting.” T’Challa said from the doorway.

Steve turned with a small smile, “it’s okay. I was brushing up on your art collection.”

“Steve,” T’Challa met Steve in the middle of the room with a handshake, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been keeping out of trouble, for the most part, and you?”                                                      

“Keeping busy.” The king responded with his engaging smile.

“I'm sure you have more than enough to do so.” Steve followed T’Challa to one of the modern chairs and sat, surprised at the comfort the seat offered. “How is he?”

“Things haven't changed, there are times, however, when he doesn't sleep alone. One person has dedicated many hours to this project and many of those are spent in his presence.”

Steve’s senses tingled and his face must have given him away as before he could speak his concern, T’Challa was quick to reassure him, “it is not like that, she has been thoroughly checked out and the labs and the cryo chamber are monitored constantly. I think she has become attached, bonded in a sense, to your friend.”

Steve’s hands relaxed on the arms of the chair.

“In fact, she is the very reason there has been this breakthrough.”

“How certain is your team?” Steve getting his hopes up was one thing, but they'd have to wake Bucky and tell him, ask him if it was something he wanted, and he couldn't do that to his friend with odds he wasn't comfortable with.

“As certain as science, psychology, and mysticism combined can be. It's immeasurable, Steve, but they are confident enough to call on their king to bring you this news.”

“Well, if they're that certain.” Steve capitulated. “I'm sure you understand why I'm concerned.”

“Yes. I weighed the information carefully as well. I didn't want you to have any excess doubt.”

“I appreciate that.” Steve's reply was earnest.

“He will need to be out of cryo for 72 hours, it's better to be free of the cocktail for him to make the decision unaltered. The two of you will be able to stay here in my apartments for the duration, if that is acceptable?”

Steve looked around the elegant accommodations with a touch of awe, even after the Avengers’ compound and Tony's extravagance he was always shocked by affluent surroundings. “It would be more than acceptable, thank you.”

They discussed the details before T’Challa escorted Steve to the med-labs.

Two women were in the room along with the medical staff who would oversee the process.

“Steve Rogers, data specialist Cristina Petran, and Doctor Ekwensi, psychology specialist with an extensive background in mystical studies.”

“Cristina, Doctor.” Steve shook Cristina’s hand then Dr. Ekwensi’s, and then looked at the chamber.

“He sleeps.” The medical doctor spoke from behind Steve, “likely will do for another few hours.”

“I thought it looked different.” Steve's hand rested on the glass.

“We can open the chamber, if you'd like” Cristina said from across the chamber, it's your call Mister Rogers.”

“Please, Steve.” He offered quietly. “If it will disturb him I'd rather not. I just want what's best.”

“It will be quieter for him, of course, to keep it closed.” Dr. Ekwensi said softly, placing her warm hand on Steve’s arm, “I agree that’s probably for the best. In a couple of hours we can open it so he won’t wake in a panic.”

The medical doctor and Dr. Ekwensi left the room, Cristina stayed behind, watching Bucky sleep.

“I hear you’ve taken quite an interest in him.” Steve thought about what Coulson had said to him back on the Quinjet in New York when he was fresh from the ice. It wasn’t as weird now as he heard this young woman speak.

“I don’t know why, but he haunts me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of a way to free him. Why him? I don’t know that either.”

“You know what he’s done?”

“I know as much about him as anyone who can read would know, and yet I want to know more. I should leave you two alone.”

“You want to know more about Bucky? Have a seat, I’ll tell you.”

 

**Reader’s POV**

“I should really let you…”

“Please, you’ve spent all of your time, working and free, to figure this out. You’re not bothering me, and like they said he’ll be asleep for hours. Join me.”

“Thank you.” Was all I could say as I sat in my familiar spot on the floor. Steve looked at me with his head cocked sideways for a moment, “Sorry, this is where I sit most of the time.”

Shrugging, Steve started to tell tales of young Steve and Bucky, laughter in his eyes and his voice. I listened intently and laughed along. When things turned to more somber moments, I cried with him too.

The doctor came in to open the chamber, checking all of Bucky’s vitals before doing so. He looked up at Steve and down at the floor to me, “He should be waking on his own in the next hour or so. Less if you make too much noise.”

“Ok,” I said, standing up in my spot, “I’m going to leave now. Thank you Steve. It was very generous of you. I’ll be back in with Dr. Ekwensi in the morning to debrief Bucky before you take him to your apartments.”

“Thank you for letting me talk, and for all the hard work you’ve done on his behalf.”

“It’s still going to be his choice, what happens next. We won’t proceed if he doesn’t expressly agree.”

“I know and I appreciate that. Thank you for recognizing the importance.”

“It’s part of what haunts me.” I said as I left, leaving Steve with his thoughts for the next hour or so.


	3. Chapter 3

**Steve’s POV**

The first sound Steve heard after Cristina left was the slight rustle of movement of Bucky’s arm, followed shortly by the shift of his legs. Steve moved to the side of the chamber, should he say something? Let Bucky wake in silence? As he hesitated, Bucky’s eyelids fluttered, and the soft look changed to one of confusion.

“It’s ok Buck.” Steve finally said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Steve?” Bucky turned to the sound, he felt groggy but he recognized his surroundings. “How long?”

“Over a year, there’ve been some developments. We’ll talk about it when you’re more awake. You’re about to be inundated with medical prodding, I’ll leave if you’d prefer it?”

“No.” Bucky said, his voice stronger now. “What kind of developments.”

“Possibly removing what Hydra put in you. Possibly.” Steve wasn’t going to bullshit him, but he wasn’t going to let him get his hopes up before hearing the details.

“I guess there’s no guarantee without a trial run.” Bucky answered Steve’s concern with a small smile. “Can’t have one of those without waking the subject first.”

“Yeah, but no making any decisions until after hearing the details and waiting 72 hours for the cocktail to wear off. You have to be able to choose your future.”

“3-day pass, huh?” Bucky smiled more readily.

“Something like that. You can get a lot done in 3 days.” Steve chuckled.

“What do they have in store for me?”

“I got the basics, but would rather wait til morning for the real debrief, let’s just say they brought up mysticism, psychology, science and a companion notebook.”

Bucky cringed at the word. Balling his hand into a fist, envisioning the red leather bound book. “A companion notebook?”

“Apparently, you are complex. One girl has been doing her homework on this for months. She spends a lot of time in here, talks to you while she works. She found the files that led to the notebook, much like Zemo had. She’s interested in helping,” Steve added when Bucky tensed and his monitor spiked.

“I know – this is just too much shit.” Bucky breathed, forcing the panic down. “Of course someone would follow a proven path, that doesn’t bother me.”

“Everything about this bothers me.” Steve admitted. “But I feel comfortable with what King T’Challa has told me.”

The medical doctor came in as Steve finished his statement, he looked over the monitor and turned it off, “Mister Barnes, did you have a good rest?”

Bucky chuckled, “better than some.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to address the situation, it is highly unusual.”

“and yet strangely familiar to me. Doc, you’re doing fine.” Bucky offered as the doctor unwrapped his hand and removed the IV.

“Rest here for a few more minutes and then I want you to get up, move around, and try to walk the room.”

“Ok not so familiar after all. Thanks doc.” Bucky said, thinking of repeated occasions of being dragged from the cold and thrust into the chair.

After the doctor left and he looked around, seeing Steve looking concerned and stoic at his side in a softly lit room filled with silence, he moved to sit up. Steve offered him a hand which he took, swinging his legs over the edge of the horizontal chamber.

The position change hit him with a slight dizziness that he blinked away slowly. “Good thing I’ve got a few hours, I don’t think I should be making decisions right now.” He joked.

Steve’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, “should I call the doctor back in?”

“No, it’s passed. What are you doing playing mother hen anyway?”

“Thought I’d try it on for size.” Steve smirked, “Doesn’t suit me.”

“Then you don’t want to give me a hand up?” Bucky was studying the floor and his distance from it, still unaccustomed to being up.

“I suppose once more.” Steve held a hand out, “steady, you’ve been off your feet for some time.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Reader’s POV**

I went straight home after leaving the lab, I was grateful for the stories that Steve shared. They just made me all the more committed to Bucky. That evening I sat in my apartment, _he’s awake_ I kept thinking, _and I have no rights to be there – I shouldn’t be concerned by it._

But I was, he had captivated my thoughts and because of this my constant research had brought everyone here and now. The time to call it a simple obsession with my work had long passed when I started having one-sided conversations with the man. It could have been excused as a work thing until then. Until I looked for his soft smile the minute I came into the room, or worried over the tightness of his jaw, indicating to me his distress. Likely, he was dreaming, the monitors would substantiate my theory. He was dreaming in this frozen state and I couldn’t convey to him that they were only that, dreams.

That’s when I had known I had left professionalism behind and crossed over into creepy and stalkerish, yet I couldn’t stop worrying. Now he was awake and completely unaware of my existence and I didn’t like that one bit.

“Dammit. Just stop. You won’t be able to look him in the face tomorrow when you have to explain this. You have to explain it in a concise and understandable manner and you can’t be pining for someone who doesn’t even know you.” I repeatedly admonished myself.

I put a kettle on for tea and looked over my notes again, not quite ready to call Dr. Ekwensi to go over it again, that would be such a dead giveaway.

I remember when King T’Challa had brought me the red notebook, “you are certain this is not the only one?”

One look inside and I confirmed my research, “I’m positive, there are notes predating these. The book is reportedly black and smaller, possibly the size of a uniform breast pocket. I have leads on where to find it, if you are ready to spare the resources to go looking, sir.”

“If you are confident in your sources, send me the information and I will send the necessary reconnaissance.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

“It is I who must thank you. Your work has been exceptional. I hope that the answers will be revealed to us soon.” All the praise, from the king to Steve himself weren't enough. I wanted this to work. That alone would be the reward.

When the kettle went off, I forced myself to pour the water slowly over the loose tea leaves in the strainer. I focused on the water being stained as the tea steeped, I talked myself into slowly sipping the hot beverage, methodically inhaling the aroma before each sip of the soothing tea. The shift in focus helped me stop the spiraling thoughts, I really needed to put this into perspective.

Sure, Bucky Barnes was attractive and he was selfless. For now he was also still dangerous. I knew the ultimate test would be to repeat the code words – and if the process failed he would be an instant threat. I was confident that was not going to happen, of course my theory couldn't be tested or proven for at least three days. If he decided to venture into the unknown.

I was nervous about the whole ordeal and despaired a little that once I had explained my part in everything, all I would be able to do would be to sit aside and watch. If it was so hard for me to feel this powerless, I had to wonder, what would he feel?

 

* * *

 

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky took in his surroundings, soft light, clean, and white but not clinical surroundings, just like he remembered from before his ‘sleep’.

He took Steve’s arm and walked the room, letting go about halfway around. “It’s weird.” He said nearly under his breath.

“What is?”

“All of this. Kindness. Quiet. Warmth.”

He could see Steve thinking, probably processing the Siberian bunker, and putting two-and-two together. “Yeah, but it’s as it should be.”

“What’s been going on outside?” Bucky asked as he stopped at the chair next to the chamber.

“I’ve been keeping busy, Sam sends word.”

“Shitty ones?” Bucky grinned.

“Complaints with undertones of well-wishes.” Steve smirked against his will.

“So what next?” Bucky asked as he sat on the edge of the chair.

“I think they want you to spend the night here, until the debriefing in the morning. Then you’re released and can stay in the apartment T’Challa has lent us.”

“Hope you don’t have to sleep in that again unless things don’t work out.” Steve looked away from the chamber and around the sparse room, Bucky guessed he was worrying that he’d possibly lose his friend to the ravages of Hydra all over again.

“I’m going to see if you can be released early and maybe even have the meeting take place at the apartment in the morning. You’ve spent enough time here.”

“You don’t have to do that, they’ve probably got a different room with a bed waiting.” Bucky provided an acceptable answer that was instantly rejected.

“It can’t hurt to try, if you’re able to be medically released, I don’t see why it can’t happen this afternoon.”

“Stubborn, that’s what you are. Go then, I’ll be fine here.” Bucky was secretly relieved that Steve was being stubborn, as much as this was his idea, he didn’t want to think about if the tests failed. At least not yet, that was a reality he’d have to face, but he just got a three day furlough.

Bucky looked up when the doctor came in, “eager to leave us?” the man asked with a friendly voice thick with the musical Wakandan accent.

“A little, yeah.”

“How was the stroll around the room, did you experience any residual dizziness?”

“No, once I got my bearings I was good. I’m not planning on doing anything I wouldn’t be doing here already Doc.”

“If that’s the case then I will sign off on your release.”

“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”

.....

Bucky whistled as they entered the foyer of their accommodations, “Some ‘apartment’.”

Steve laughed, Bucky couldn’t remember when he had heard that sound last. It had to be during the war. “Yeah, if you’re a king, you can have anything. At least it’s comfortable. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

Bucky surveyed his “room” which was twice the size of his entire apartment in Romania and probably two and a half times the size of the one in Brooklyn. With a shake of his head he looked around. “Fit for a king.” Bucky decided. “Shouldn’t we be in a broom closet or something?”

There it was again, the familiar ring of his friend’s rare laughter. Bucky couldn’t help but smile, they had laughed together readily at one time. “I brought you some things,” Steve gestured toward a bag on the floor by the bed, “for the next few days and hopefully…”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Bucky interrupted, sitting on chair near the bed and looking around, before locking eyes with Steve, “If it doesn’t work…”

“We’ll talk about that after your debriefing.” Steve dismissed the notion with a look that pained Bucky.

“Steve, if something goes wrong…”

“Buck. We’ll deal with it. Listen, are you hungry? There’s a list of stuff you can have tonight, tomorrow you’re able to have a little more variety.”

“I could eat. Whatever you think sounds good. Let me see what you brought.” He reached for the bag. He didn’t want to think about it either, didn’t want to talk about it, but it was there, in his head. “We _will_ talk about it Steve.”

“I know – but just not now. Three day pass, remember? You don’t have to decide anything about any of it for three days.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Reader’s POV**

I was up before the sun, excitement and fear spurred me on. I stepped into my workout clothes and out the door, breathing the fresh air and saying a quick salutation to the powers that be. I’m not from Wakanda but I’m home here now, and my spiritual presence has been awakened. Even if I haven’t yet fully embraced the beliefs that surround me, I respect the nature of it. “Please let the things I do today be worth something.” I said to the mists that encircled me in the purple light of dawn.

I started down the same path I always do, jogging, walking, running, in succession. I have to mix it up, or, even with the various views and trails, I could get bored. Thoughts of the morning to come were, of course, foremost in my mind.

I approached my favorite lookout point with anticipation; I would stop here, rehydrate, and look across the valley. I stopped short, the stone bench was occupied.

He was even more beautiful in the sunrise, the golden light painting his cheek and highlighting his dark locks with strands of deep bronze as he looked out over the valley. He brushed a lock of hair behind his ear and went back to what looked like a meditative posture. I wasn’t sure if I should continue on, turn around, or stop as planned.

Bucky sat in my preferred spot wearing a soft, gray sweater and navy running pants. He sat as still as he would have been in the chamber, but he was so much more animated. His lashes fluttered across his cheek as he closed his eyes just longer than a blink, the air puffed out of his cheeks as he inhaled and exhaled. It was when he turned his head a fraction in my direction and met my eye that I was finally able to move.

“I’m sorry, I… Well this is awkward, Mr. Barnes.”

“You have me at a disadvantage.” His brow was raised in question, his steel-blue gaze could penetrate my soul if I didn’t watch out.

“We’re to meet later today.” I blushed, “I’m Cristina, I’m going to be joining your debriefing.”

“Come, sit.” He patted the spot next to him. “I hear you’re the reason I’m enjoying the view this morning.”

“I’m part of the team.” I sat on the edge of the bench.

He chuckled at my reply, “I hear you’ve been leading the team.”

“Is that all?” I smiled, turning to him. “I’m pretty sure my reputation must have included the word “obsessed”.”

“I can’t complain.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude, I shouldn’t be surprised that someone else enjoys my favorite view. After all, the bench had to be put here by someone.”

“I couldn’t sleep – guess it has to do with all the sleeping – so I took a walk. It’s peaceful here.” He closed his eyes and that soft smile settled on his face, the bow of his lips turned up gently.

I sat more fully on the rough-hewn stone bench, pulling my feet up and wrapped my arms around my legs, enjoying my own peace, without words to break through his.

I felt the sun warming my hair and my cheeks, the crisp coolness being slowly pushed aside by the morning warmth. I glanced to my side and saw Bucky looking at me. “You’re not quiet by nature.”

“No,” I know that warmth on my face wasn’t _just_ the sun, I must be blushing, a bright shade of embarrassed, “I have to concentrate on being quiet. I say things when I should be silent. I find it easier here, though.”

“I understand. I’m not the most talkative, but it’s not quiet in here.” He tapped his temple, “I have to concentrate on quieting it, so I can focus on the thoughts I need to. It is easier here.”

“I’ll leave you to your peace.” I didn’t want to, but I moved to leave. His hand was on my shin before I had a chance to put my feet on the ground.

“Don’t go, you’re not disturbing me. I have him, Steve, being awkward in our apartment, neither of us knowing what to say, or when. But this, I can talk or not talk and you’re ok with it. You haven’t done a single assessment of me, at least I don’t feel like I’m being sized up.”

“He feels like he has too much to lose. I’ve already put everything out there, and as much as I feel like I know about you, we’re essentially strangers.”

He nodded and folded his legs on the bench, sitting in the sunshine and looking to the valley below. I sat in silence watching the mist swirl and separate beneath us as the sun climbed higher.

“So, what do you have in store for me?” he asked, not looking away from the scenery below.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it without Dr. Ekwensi present.” I watched him, his jaw almost imperceptibly clenched, “I am not even supposed to be talking to you.”

“We met by chance. Who am I going to tell? Besides it’s my mind, I should choose not only if it happens but who tells me what I need to know.” He did look away from the valley then, right into my eyes, silently pleading through glistening blue.

I sighed, resigned to the fact that I would do anything he asked, “It’s a drawn out process of hypnosis and exposure to the imagery that they used to create the triggers. Dr. Ekwensi is a phenomenal psychologist but she’s also a practiced mystic. Instead of ECT, she’s going to use mystical powers in tandem with the hypnosis.”

“Where will you be?”

“I’ll probably be waiting outside the room, with Steve if they allow it.”

“If I want you with me?” he didn’t look away and I couldn’t tear my eyes from his.

“I don’t know. I mean they might think I enticed you, influenced you to say so, my ‘obsession’ has not been a secret.”

“You’re the one who found the answers and you’re the only person who will talk to me about it. Steve doesn’t want to. I’m relatively certain if I’d asked someone I would have gotten the same answer you almost gave me. If anyone enticed anybody I was the one influencing you through guilt.”

“At least you admit it.” I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m relatively certain that you could request almost anything. Think about it though. You do have three days.”

“True, I keep hearing that,” Bucky’s expression was thoughtful, “and it takes me back every time, three day pass, furlough. What should I do? See the sights of Wakanda?”

“You should. It’s beautiful here.” I encouraged him, “the richness of the country should not be missed.”

“Show me around?” his brows lifted, the corners of his mouth curved up and I couldn’t resist smiling back.

“What about Steve? Surely he wants to spend time with you after over a year.”

“If he wants, he can come along. Of course I wouldn’t leave him out, but you must know the best things to see and do?”

“I have made some discoveries.” I checked my phone for the time, “I need to get back and get ready for a meeting – one you probably want to start heading back for yourself. Talk to Steve and if he says yes, we’ll all go sightseeing.”

“I’ll see you there.” He smiled and waved as I trekked back down the path. I ran more than jogging or walking back to my apartment. I couldn’t believe I’d spent so much time, several hours, sitting and talking _with_ Bucky instead of the many hours I’d spent talking _at_ him.

* * *

**Bucky’s POV**

He’d gone to bed hours after eating, trying to conform to expectations, maybe not Steve’s or his, maybe just trying to assimilate into normal life, again. He wasn’t able to sleep so he tried reading. There was no way he could focus on anything like that so he’d wound up slipping into some running pants and a long sleeved shirt he had to pin the left arm up on.

He didn’t think ahead much until he stepped out onto the balcony from his room, and the crisp air hit him. He ducked back inside to grab the soft sweater that had been in his bag, a thick gray cardigan with pockets. In a rush this time, he just pulled the left sleeve inside out, letting it lie along his side under the snug fitting sweater. He sat on the rail for a little while and let his mind wander.

What was going to happen to him? How would they free his mind? He tried to think of the words, but there was a cloud around the memory, a buzz that kept him from touching the images that represented _the words_. What would it take to unlock the mystery? How much would it hurt this time?

Bucky leapt from the balcony and landed on soft earth beneath his feet. He ran, at first he ran from the pain and the memories crashing in and then as the pounding of his heart and the pounding of his feet started to sync, he was able to focus on the rhythm and push the ugliness aside.

He ran, then, for the rush. He took note of the trail, along the edge of a winding mountain. He felt the dirt beneath his feet, between his bare toes. He’d left without shoes? Well, when panic takes you, it takes you how you are.

He saw the bench placed in the best spot with the most awe inspiring view and even though he wasn’t the least bit winded, he stopped and he sat. The sun hadn’t even bothered to peek over the horizon yet, the sky was somewhere between navy and violet and the stars dotted the sky so sharply, with a view he couldn’t remember seeing for a very long time. Probably one night in Europe when there was a lull in the bombing and there was no smoke cloud to obscure the sight.

Bucky pulled his feet up close to his ass, sitting with his knees to his chin as he watched the sky lighten almost imperceptibly and thought again, more calmly about what they might have to do to fix what was torn apart inside of him. He’d heard her approach. Knew when she had stopped to watch him. Was he in her spot? Was she winded, looking for a spot to relax and frightened of a stranger on her path?

She didn’t seem to be frightened, she seemed to be intrigued. When he’d finally looked at her and she announced that she knew him, and who she was, he was equally intrigued; he had been since hearing about her and her passionate dedication to his future.

In a different world, maybe that dedication could be considered off-putting, but he’d seen so much worse, done so much worse. The only thing he wondered about was what could possess someone to be so committed to him, with all the blood on his hands. Of course thoughts of Steve pushed that condemnation aside, the discussion was moot, and apparently some people just had blind faith.

Unfolding himself from the bench after she left, Bucky stretched and looked again over the valley, the mist was lower, baring the tops of green trees now. He looked forward to his three day pass and sightseeing with Cristina.

* * *

 

**Steve’s POV**

A loud thump rocked Steve from his sleep. He jumped and looked toward the noise. He saw a large colorful bird on the patio outside his room, it waddled and staggered a little, causing a chuckle to build inside Steve’s chest. He pieced it together pretty fast, large flying bird, clear glass window, loud thump.

He climbed from the bed, padding across the floor in his bare feet and opened the door. The bird didn’t bother to move, “Hey there, rude awakening for both of us, huh?” Steve was still chuckling. He stepped to the railing and looked across the valley with a sigh. He should be used to the beauty but figured that this was what the overused word “awesome” was intended for.

He saw Bucky wandering up the trail, and smiled at the thought of his friend out, seeing things and maybe, hopefully, enjoying life a little. The closer he got, the more Steve could tell, his pace was steady and relaxed, and he was barefoot and looked like he didn’t give two shits about it. The bird hopped up on the rail next to Steve’s elbow. If he moved just right he’d either spook the creature or touch it. At this rate the bastard seemed fearless, so he guessed it would be the latter.

“Hey Buck!” Steve called as his friend drew closer, when Bucky looked up Steve tilted his head in the direction of the bird. “Visitors come in all shapes and sizes.”

Bucky smiled as he ducked under the balcony above him, entering the apartment through the lower level.

Steve turned at the sound of Bucky in the doorway, he put a finger to his lips, “I’m not sure if this guy is injured or just likes the view. I think he flew into my window.”

He watched as Bucky approached the bird with the stealth he’d previously used as a sniper and probably an assassin. Bucky’s hand was over the bird’s wing before either Steve or the bird could react. Bucky’s fingers roamed the length of the bone and then with very little resistance from the bird, he inspected the other wing.

“He’s ok. Probably just in love with ya.” Bucky grinned. “I need to jump in the shower before everyone shows up.”

Steve watched Bucky ruffle the feathers on the bird’s head before setting him back on the railing and gestured to Steve to step back. When they both gave the bird some space, the colorful creature spread its wings and stood its ground before letting out a strange call and taking off across the sky.

“So, you’re an ornithologist now, who knew.” Steve joked.

“I may have rehabilitated a bird once. Don’t tell Sam, he might start liking me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Reader POV**

I showered quickly, with a smile on my face. Thoughts of the trouble I could get into by talking to Bucky about the plan before the meeting couldn’t even turn the feeling sour. It wasn’t until my mind wandered down that old obsessive path that my smile faded.

That damned black notebook and the notes within it crept in to interrupt my pleasant thoughts.

_Subject: Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, born 10 March, 1917_

_Known Details: 1 March, 1945; Subject, along with coconspirator, code name Captain America – US Army Captain_  
            S _teve Rogers set out at dawn to overtake Hydra / Doctor Zola. Subject thrown from train. Subject has not provided_  
            any information.

_Conscious. Aware of missing limb. Rate of recovery from fall indicates level of success of experimentation by Doctor Zola._

_Subject has resisted various types of stimuli. Baseline status: Resistant. Subject only provides Name, Rank Serial Number._

_Increase intensity, advanced methods authorized. Results consistent with baseline. Subject only provides Name, Rank  
            Serial Number._

_Require specialist._

_Subject requires restraints. Repeated escape attempts; skilled fighter even with missing limb.  
            Resistance to Pain: level-extreme_

_Specialist assessment: Require extended sessions with subject._

Extended sessions. Days upon days where he was strapped down and subjected to physical, mental, and emotional torture. Having words drilled into his mind with one goal, corruption. The specialist, who was never named in the tome, penetrated and abused the mind of a good man. A man who only wanted to go home, or to die by the time he was broken.

I hated the book. I hated the people. I hated that I had to touch this horrible relic. The hours that I’d had to read from this vile piece of history, I would stay away from Bucky. I didn’t want that book so close to him again, as though it carried with it the spirit of the evil that was done to him. There were many times I would, however, put the book away and take the long way to the lab – to spend time decompressing next to his chamber, crying and apologizing to him repeatedly.

Your sense of self-preservation pushes you to stop doing something that causes you pain, and mine did that. I had to force myself to _continue_ reading it so that I could try to find the link to undo what was done. Eventually I had to promise Dr. Ekwensi that I would only work from the book when she was with me.

“Cristina Mihaela Petran, we are a team in this and you have done as much as any one person can do. Do not open that book again without me there with you. It is tearing you up. You cannot help him if you are the one needing help.”

“You’re right, Rehena. I just…”

“You just can’t stop. This time you have to. There is darkness in that book. What you are trying to unravel in him, if you don’t let me help; it is going to drag you under. You have to trust me as your friend, not as a doctor. We _will_ work on it together.”

We did work on it together, and together we found what I had been missing. In retrospect, I’m surprised she didn’t tell me “Your job was to find the book, your work is done.” But neither she nor King T’Challa ever ordered me to quit. They must have trusted my puzzle-solving skills to translate to paper data as well as digital.

I forced the thoughts of the contents of the book away and dressed for the meeting. I weighed my options, and casual won out over my typical work attire, I slipped into jeans and paired them with a soft peasant blouse with a pattern comprised of the colors of the rainbow, which I chose specifically to brighten my mood, and a pair of locally crafted sandals. I pushed my hair behind my ear and smiled into the mirror, thinking of Bucky on the stone bench a few hours earlier making the same gesture.

I was ready to go, today was the easy stuff. Hell, I’d already put the cards on the table and I didn’t care. I decided I should call Rehena as I stepped out my door.

“So, I ran into Bucky this morning.” Was my greeting.

“You did?” she didn’t seem surprised.

“Yes, I did. It was all completely innocent, I swear. I’d gone running and he’d taken a walk. So – he asked me what was going on. I already told him the basics. You’re still going to have to fill in the blanks but yeah, I wanted you to know.”

I heard her sigh midway through my confession but I could see her in my imagination smiling in spite of it. “Thank you for the warning, how did he appear to handle what you told him?”

“He was pretty easy going about it; I think he was more at ease after than before. Reh I couldn’t ignore his request, you know that.”

“I am not worried about it. I believe you are the last person in the world, aside from his friend who would do something that would harm him.”

“He might ask for me to be there when it’s time, when you…” ugh, saying it now that I knew him wasn’t possible, “he said he would like me there. I thought I’d warn you, you know, so you won’t be tempted to throw me out the window.”

She laughed, as I’d hoped she would. “You are trying to make my job difficult aren’t you?”

“No, honestly I want your job to go as smoothly as it could ever go. Are you sure you can do this?”

“You have asked me this question so many times, Cristina. When will you believe me?”

“When it’s done and nobody has been harmed, and he is free of those words so he can start to heal.”

“That is fair enough.” She laughed, her warm voice encouraging me. “You’re not going to be late are you?”

“Are you kidding? I’m almost there now.” I smiled, “see you in a few.”

**Steve’s POV**

“You don’t seem nervous about this meeting, your walk must have done you good.” Steve said casually to Bucky as they waited for Dr. Ekwensi and Cristina to arrive, he himself wasn’t the least bit calm.

“It was more of a run.” Bucky said offhandedly. “But I ran into Cristina and she gave me the basics. I can't say I’m thrilled about someone taking a mystical walk through my mind but it sounds kinder than how Hydra got the shit in there to begin with. If it works it will be worth it.

“Oh, and we’re going sightseeing later, you in?”

“You already have a date? Why am I even surprised?” Steve smiled, pleased that Bucky could have this small piece of a normal life.

In the year that had passed, Steve had been haunted by memories of the way Bucky’s life had been turned upside down and inside out over and over again. His fun-loving, smart, and all around decent friend had his life ripped from him, and at least twice the reason was Steve.

Back in the war, he couldn’t catch Bucky and he didn’t think to try to find him. That wound was always there. More recently, when Bucky was Zemo’s victim, Steve was the catalyst. This was worse than salt in a wound, this was another gash in Steve’s soul. It didn’t matter that Sam and a therapist had both told him he couldn’t think like that. He would shoulder the burden. Even before the serum, Steve’s shoulders could bear the weight, but this normality just might help heal at least one of those wounds.

“It’s not a date. Don’t be ridiculous, when would I have time to make a date? It was just a friendly offer.” Steve didn’t miss the hint of a smile before Bucky turned away to reach for the fruit bowl on the table.

“She likes you. It’s a date.” He said with a hint of a laugh as he caught the fruit Bucky had tossed at him.

“Not if you’re invited it’s not. And she expressly invited you.” Bucky’s smirk was real, it was normal.

“If I don’t go it is.” Steve returned, biting into the succulent flesh of the indigenous fruit.

“You’re going to pass up a personalized tour of Wakanda’s capitol to set me up on a date? Seriously, Steve.”

“Well, if you really need my help, I suppose I could tag along.” Steve teased.

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky took the teasing in stride. At least _that_ felt familiar.

This was all so awkward, one of a thousand reasons he'd stayed away. One of the thousand reasons he hadn't been _ready_. Steve had concrete memories and he could easily tie them to emotions.

Bucky couldn’t always reconcile what he was feeling with his thought processes. He didn’t know if it was a result of the repeated electrocution – the nice, clean term ECT that Cristina had used was too uncontaminated – or from just trying so hard not to feel. Indulging any feelings almost always led to dealing with negative feelings, which led to a dark fucking road.

Fuck if he was ready to talk about emotions and memories anyway. It was just days ago in his mind that he’d been chased from his humble place, his _own_ humble home in Romania. Just days ago that he only had to _worry_ about “what if”, not actually deal with it. Still, he was probably going to be facing all kinds of emotions if he went through with this, maybe he _should_ try to confide in someone.

If Steve decided not to go, could he unburden himself to Cristina? He did find her very easy to talk to, probably due to the fact that even with her own emotional connection to him, she was virtually a stranger. Would he be able to bluntly explain what he felt? Should he?

If he went too far, she would see how corrupt he was. How could he accept doing that to her? Maybe he should consider if it would be more or less difficult to talk to Steve about it. Steve already knew his history and still accepted him.

“Bucky?” Steve interrupted his thoughts, “Buck are you ok?”

“A lot to think about, sorry. I got distracted.”

“I could tell, anything I can do to help?” Steve asked at the same time there was a knock at the door.

“Maybe later.” Bucky replied, taking a deep breath, “We’ve got business to discuss.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Bucky’s POV**

Introductions were easier than Bucky had expected, there was only the Doctor that he hadn’t met. He was actually surprised to see just the two women at the door. He fully expected them to be guarded, protected from him.

Dr. Rehena Ekwensi was elegant, her soft voice and local accent were soothing as she introduced herself. “Mr. Barnes, I’m pleased to meet you. My name is Dr. Ekwensi.”

“Please, if you’re going to be taking a mystical stroll through my brain, I hope we can all at least be on a first name basis. Call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Dr. Ekwensi shook his hand, “I’m Rehena.”

“Beautiful name. I’m pleased to meet you Rehena.” Bucky could like this doctor, she was kind, and her smile was encouraging. “Please, sit down. Hello again Cristina.”

“Bucky.” Cristina smiled.

“I am told that this is now more of a formality,” she looked at Cristina and they both smiled, Bucky could see that they were closer than just colleagues, “Now that you know what we need to do. To be honest I originally wanted to wait the three days before even discussing this with you so that you had a chance to be out and off the sedative cocktail before having to process so much.  I was assured that you wouldn’t be so patient. I see your friend was right.” Rehena looked at Steve, who, unlike Cristina had the decency to look guilty.

“I haven’t had control of my own mind for too long, it seems like even a day is too long to wait, but I appreciate the concern.” Bucky figured he could have it done right now, just to be free or have everything over with, but he would appease the people who had watched out for him and he’d wait.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time; I just wanted the two of us to get acquainted. If we do this,”

“When.” Bucky interrupted, “I’m sorry, but when we do this. I know you want me to wait to decide. I’ll wait for the procedure but I’ve decided.”

“Ok.” Rehena continued, unconcerned with the interruption, “ _When_ we do this, I want to do it in a peaceful place. I want you to go into it as comfortable as possible given the circumstances, so whether you’re seated or lying down will be entirely up to you. I typically work one on one with my patients but since this is a highly unusual circumstance, you are welcome to tell me anyone you either want or do not want to be present. When I say that, I want you to be entirely comfortable in the environment before I put you under hypnosis. If you do not want someone in with us, there will be absolutely no shame in you saying so.”

Rehena glanced at Steve and Bucky caught the look, “I don’t have any problems with Steve, we’re past him having expectations from me that I can’t handle. I don’t know right now who I want in there, I don’t even know if I will, although I assume you’re going to have to test the trigger words. It might be safer for you to have Steve in there, in case that doesn’t work in our favor.” Bucky glanced from Steve to Cristina, “I would feel safe with anyone in this room in there, as long as you can keep them safe from me.”

“You know I have your back, Buck.” Steve rushed to reassure Bucky.

“I know.” After being surrounded by people wanting to use him, tear him down and make him something else, Bucky had embraced the solitary life, trusting only himself and even then only so far, because he never knew when he’d not be in control again. Now he found himself surrounded by people and as twitchy as he was starting to feel, he was able to see that each of them really did want to help.

“We’ll see how you feel when we get there.” Rehena added, “No need to rush that decision either, especially when you could change your mind clear up to the moment we are sitting face to face, and you are allowed to change your mind at any time.”

“I appreciate that, thank you.” Bucky felt overwhelmed. Was there such thing as too much choice? “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet.” He teased Cristina.

“I said a _hell_ of a lot more than I was supposed to this morning.” She smiled, he liked her smile.

“I appreciate what you did say. I didn’t get you into trouble, did I?” Bucky looked between the women, smiling back at them both, “I’d never forgive myself if I did.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about. Rehena is very understanding.”

* * *

 

**Steve’s POV**

This whole process was unnerving, but Steve understood the care they were taking. If they were to go into it without thinking it through he’d be fighting them. He knew the three days, two and a half once this meeting was over, would be hard to wait through and he knew there was something Bucky wanted to talk to him about, that he wasn’t willing to sit through.

He knew that if this backfired he’d have to hurt Bucky again and he was pretty sure Bucky wanted him to end things if everything went wrong.

Steve was pretty sure he couldn’t do that.

As much as he hadn’t seen his friend, and had looked forward to the “three day pass”, he couldn’t look past the “just this side of flirting” that was happening on Bucky’s side of Bucky and Cristina. He would beg out of this sightseeing tour and send his friend on a date. His first since the 40’s. Bucky could thank him after the fact.

The discussion wound down to teasing and Rehena rose, “If you have any questions at all, please let me know. Otherwise, I will see you in a few days.”

Bucky and Steve rose as Rehena did, said proper fare-wells as their mothers had drilled into them and Bucky escorted her to the door.

“So, thank you for the invitation to go sightseeing,” Steve took advantage of the moment, “I’m going to pass, I’m meeting T’Challa for lunch and will probably come back and get some things done that I’ve been putting off.”

“If you’re sure.” She replied, “You really are more than welcome, the more the merrier.”

“I’m sure.” Steve said with a half-smile, half tempted to change his mind, “I do appreciate the offer.”

* * *

 

**Reader POV**

I watched Rehena work. She is always so patient with people, it’s almost hypnotizing in itself to see her interact with others, especially one on one like this. Sure, Steve and I were in the room but we were inconsequential. Bucky only barely tried to bring us into the discussion and only when we were mentioned. He seemed as comfortable talking to her as he had been with me, or as I ever am with her. My friend has a gift, and I don’t doubt that her skills and mine were put in the same place and time as Bucky was brought here for help for a reason. I believe this will work.

I can’t express how I felt when Bucky suggested that Steve be present for protection against him. He had a look of resignation that hurt my soul. I don’t imagine he has it in mind to go back under if something goes wrong, which I get, but selfishly I want to convince him otherwise.

When Rehena left and Steve declined the invitation to go sight-seeing, I was secretly excited. I would have _loved_ to spend the time with both of them, but the idea of more time alone with Bucky was more than I had imagined.

Having shown Rehena to the door, Bucky returned to where we were still seated, talking. He leaned against the chair Steve was sitting in, “So, is today the day?”

“For sightseeing? Yeah, unless you’d rather wait until tomorrow? Steve’s got a luncheon with King T’Challa today.”

I saw Steve shift, getting ready to scramble to make another excuse. I don’t think Bucky noticed, as he had turned away to grab the sweater he’d been wearing earlier, “Will I need this?”

“Not until later, if we plan things right we can stop back and get it before you might. If you want to hang out with me that long”

“Great, hang that up for me would ya?” he said over his shoulder to Steve as he ushered me to the door.

“Gee, happy to be of service.” Steve called out behind us.

“That wasn’t very nice.” I told him as he pulled the door closed with a grin.

“Yeah? He won’t hang it up either, so no harm done.”

I laughed and his smile was mischievous. “So, sightseeing is a serious thing, have you eaten? You’re going to need your strength.”

“Strength I have plenty to spare. I had a piece of fruit before the meeting, but I could eat something if you’re hungry.”

“I know the perfect thing. How do you feel about street food? There are some great vendors we’ll pass as we progress.”

“What could be a better way experience the place I’m seeing than to smell and taste it too?” he surprised me by asking.

“I couldn’t agree more. So, how do you feel about Rehena?” We walked along the trail the leads to the city.

“She seems… ancient. No, she’s beautiful, not old, but hell neither am I, but I am.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his stumbling, “I’ve always thought that Rehena has an old soul.”

“That’s it, that’s what I meant,” he lit up briefly before his face fell into a frown, “you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t know or can’t articulate a thought. They didn’t just _put things in_ there.”

“Who am I to judge? I’m sorry you were treated so horribly.”

“Me too. Let’s not talk about that – there’s enough of that to worry about in a few days.”

“You got it. So, first stop, can you smell it?” I took his hand and led him to the cart around the corner following the spicy fragrance that wafted through the air.

“I can – and maybe I’m more willing to eat than I thought.” His grin was like a young boy eager to splurge in a candy shop.

“Don’t eat big, there’s a lot more, further into town, a lot more – but this is a personal favorite.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” his face alight with humor, “you know, I’m looking forward to today, don’t use all of your energy selling me on it, I’m sold.”

“I didn’t realize I was so over the top, I’ve been looking forward to it too. I don’t get to walk around the town as often as I’d like.”

We ordered the spicy meat and mango kabobs and then leaned against the stone wall of the building on the corner, eating and dripping juices down our chins. I had come prepared with a bandanna in my bag which I juggled to get out while still holding the savory food.

It occurred to me as I fished around to find it that Bucky was at an even bigger disadvantage. When I freed the square of fabric, I shook it loose and then dabbed the drizzle from his chin before attacking my own. “Uhm, I hope that was ok to do.” I felt the blush swarming my cheeks and I bit my lip, raising my eyebrows in question.

“It was.” He said softly but firmly, his lips turned up slightly, “I’m working with half what I’m used to.”

“Yeah, but chances are I would have been that forward even if you weren’t, and still apologized for it afterward.” I confessed.

He laughed at me. It was a beautiful laugh, his eyes crinkled and the sound was musical, all those months of spying a hint of a smile through frosted glass led me to imagine such a moment and this was so much more than my imagination could fabricate.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still laughing, “I’m not laughing at you, really. You aren’t even fazed by my lame humor or my missing arm?”

“Nope. If you can joke about it, I’m not worried.”

“Well, I’m a capable person, but I would welcome the help – if you don’t go overboard.”

“I won’t let you roam the town with meat juice on your chin.” I promised, crossing my heart and everything.

“Perfect.” He smirked, taking another bite, talking before he was finished chewing, “You were right about this – very good.”

“I’m glad you approve.” I leaned back against the wall where he stood with one leg up and his back along the wall. “So, there are some street vendors and buildings that I want to show you, then we’ll cross town and trek through the outskirts, into the forest if you’re up for it?”

“I’m all yours, lead me.”

“Ok I’ll lead, but you have to promise to participate. If you see something you think we should check out, just say something.” I bit the last piece of mango from the stick, “I tend to get wrapped up in what I’m doing, and I don’t want that. I’ve seen all this stuff, this is your outing.”

“Gotcha. I’ll participate.” He held out his hand for the bandanna, I traded him skewers for fabric and took them over to the trash bin next to the cart. When I came back to where he stood, he dabbed the bandanna to my chin, I still don’t know if it was for a reason, or just to be silly, there was mischief in his gaze, so it could have been either.

I took the cloth from him and stuffed it back into my bag, before taking his offered hand. “I hope you’re not too easily bored with architecture.”

He wasn’t. He compared the details with things he’d seen in Europe and the Middle East, able to compartmentalize the unpleasant things with just a bit of a flinch or a moment of apology before launching into colorful comparisons.

An alley with an outside staircase reminded him of Brooklyn. “Steve and I had this apartment that had a walk-up like that.” He pointed down the alleyway, “Except the building was brick and not this clay stone.”

“Am I in the presence of a future architect?” I asked when he lit up about the details of a row of buildings.

“I suppose the possibility is there. I think the observation stems from Steve’s art. He was always pointing out the symmetry of this and the structure of that.”

“A lot of observation rubbed off on you. You have a good eye and a really colorful way of expressing things.”

“I don’t know that I’ve said as much in as far back as I can remember, as I have today.” I think there was a slight blush on his cheeks, “You’re easy to talk to.”

I know there was a deep blush on mine. “I’m glad. I was a little worried I’d dominate the conversation _and_ make you uncomfortable.”

“While we’re confessing, I was worried I’d be a little too quiet and you’d feel uncomfortable.” He looked bashful and so, so young, “I don’t know why I worried, I wasn’t ever that guy on dates.”

Wandering the town took us a couple of hours, stopping at booths in the market and interacting with the people. Some Wakandans were still intolerant of outsiders, but having experienced enough of that since I came to live here, I knew what to steer clear of, and the market wasn’t one of those places. Bucky eventually took my hand and tugged me aside, “is now a good time to head out of town? We’ve got a bag full of treats and it’s getting crowded.”

“Now is a perfect time. You’re going to see a lot fewer people from this point forward. Animals, on the other hand, you might see more of.”

We walked past the walls out into the fields that led to the rainforest in a companionable silence. It wasn’t until we were fair distance from the walls, that he spoke, “Animals, I can handle.”

“Hey, you should tell me before it starts to be too much. Anything we do today can be changed at a moment’s notice. You’ve only been awake for less than 24 hours.”

“It was just starting to get a little too busy.”

“You do know you’re safe here, Bucky.”

“As safe as anyone can be, I guess. I’m also at a disadvantage.”

“Yet you’re still stronger than most, and agile and a skilled fighter. You’d do fine, but you won’t have anything to worry about. I’ve promised you a stress free day.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here, in the wilderness, what brings you to the wilderness Cristina?”

“The beauty, and the serenity. You ready? Follow me, this is my favorite spot.” We stepped into the shade at the edge of the forest, “I only stick to the path, one of these days I might be brave, or stupid, enough to venture further. I’ll have to have a real plan then.”

“You’d go deeper into the rainforest? I’m guessing the path is where it is for a reason.”

“Yeah, I think about it but I don’t know. Contemplating a thing is nothing like actually doing it.” I stopped at a large fallen log that usually serves as my resting, reading, and occasionally napping spot. “This is a good spot to dig into those treats we collected, come, have a seat.”

Bucky straddled the log and sat in front of me, “You wouldn’t do it alone, I hope?”

“Hell no!” I laughed, “I don’t think that would be smart at all, and if I’m anything at all, Bucky, I’m smart. I certainly wouldn’t traipse through there with a large entourage but I’d have someone to back me up. This path is adventurous enough alone, there’s always the chance of some mammal or reptile coming out of hiding and this tree isn’t the only one down. One day I was witness to one falling, the crack scared the shit out of me and I didn’t know which way it would go and I couldn’t exactly tell where it was falling from.

“I almost froze, then I realized I was pretty close to a sturdy tree the opposite direction the noise had come from – I hid behind that damned tree. It’s funny how a thing like that happens in an instant but you’re able to micro process things if you’re tuned into your surroundings. Worst case? I’d get bruised or just _maybe_ crushed. Not definitely crushed.”

“You’re making that up.” He smirked, taking the meat pastry I’d pulled out of the bag from my hand.

“Nope. I’ll show you the tree, I know it’s not proof, but I can show you what and where. You can decide for yourself whether or not I’m a good storyteller. It wasn’t as big as this monster though.”

I couldn’t tell if he doubted me or not as he looked around the space we were seated. The canopy of trees was starting to thicken at this point along the path. The floor was dappled with sunlight, and thick with fallen leaves and sprigs of new tree growth and ground level plants. He toed the rotting remains of the stump of a much smaller tree. I pointed out the different mushrooms that were growing just behind where his foot rested.

“Look at all the colors, these simple fungi grow out of rotting things, and they look like something out of a fairytale. The rust one and the yellow one, those are my favorites, they look smooth and shiny and almost pillowy soft.”

“You make the most interesting observations of the most unexpected things, from architecture to fungi.”

“And everyone thinks I’m just a computer nerd. There are more colorful and amazing fungi along the way too, if you’re interested. If not just steer me away,” I set some dried fruits on the bandanna between us, “how do you like your market selections?”

“I like everything just fine, including the idea of colorful fungi in a rainforest that not very many outsiders have seen. It’s simple, quiet elegance and it’s the exact opposite of what my life had become. Oh, and the food is great.”

“I promise, there’s more to see than just fungi.” I was torn between looking at him and looking away, a strange dance of spotting something in the forest around us and making eye contact but not for _too long_. “I told you I talk too much.”

“You don’t. I enjoy our conversations, and I think I’m doing _ok_ at participating?”

“No, you’re doing better than ok.”

“Besides, you’re the tour guide, rightfully you should be doing more of the talking.” He winked.

“You're an absolute flirt, you know that don’t you?”

“Maybe at one time. Maybe you can help me figure it out. I haven’t ‘flirted’ in decades.”

“Oh, trust me, you’re a natural.” I laughed at his dispute.

We finished our impromptu rainforest picnic then continued along the path. “You’re going to want to watch your feet as much as the dangling trees and vines over your head, there could be a frog or a snake, you don’t want to ruin their day, or ours if you get a snakebite.”

“Gotcha.” He looked at me, “You’re not afraid of snakes?”

“I’m respectful of them. Then there are the insects… some big ass bugs.”

“No? You don’t like the bugs huh?”

“You have the “chases girls with bugs” look and I don’t like it.” I warned him. “I’ll be forced to let you look ridiculous in town with meat juice on your chin or something equally sinister if you do anything like that.”

“Sinister.” He chuckled, “you’re funny.”

“Well, that’s debatable.”

“I promise no bug chasing. Do you trust me?”

“I do.” I said automatically. “I trust you Bucky.”

“Might be a mistake?” he looked sideways at me, “You sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

“Nah, I don’t make mistakes. At least not where it counts.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Bucky’s POV**

They’d covered a lot of ground before the rain hit. Bucky teased and laughed until the crack of thunder made them both jump from its unexpected clash. Even then they both laughed nervously, then a surge of lightning illuminated the sky. It sent him to his knees in a panic. He curled into himself in an attempt to hide from the imagined jolt that he could remember with a clarity unlike any of his other memories. The electricity in the air invaded his mouth and nose.

He felt her near him before he heard her. “Bucky, you’re safe.” He heard when she sat on the ground in front of him, he felt her fingers tentatively touch his arm as it shielded him. “We should find cover, you’ll be even safer out of the clearing.”

Her voice wasn't panicked, she didn’t move, didn’t touch him more than her fingers briefly grazing his arm, she just sat right in front of him, repeating to him that he was safe. He looked up eventually to see her concern melt into a frightened, tentative smile, “Hey Bucky?” she said as softly as she had been speaking, “Let’s get out of the clearing ok?”

“Dammit.” He cursed softly, “damn. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, come with me, I know the perfect spot. We’re in for a show and we need to be safe, can you get up?” She rose and he looked up to see her holding out her hand. He reached for it and stood in front of her. “Follow me.”

They jogged for the tree cover, and he let her go ahead, watching as she ducked under a cluster of small trees hidden within the larger growth. “Safer in here.” She ushered him inside the small space. “It’s less wet too, only a little damp. We can sit, close quarters though.”

“You know, I know all this but it flies right out when panic sets in.”

“That’s ok, that’s why you have friends.” She smiled and he sat down on the ground next to her, glad that he did have friends.

“Thank you. I don’t know if I’m ok now, we’ll see. But what you did, just…”

“It’s ok. Would you mind telling me what you might need from me if it happens again, so you don’t freak out on me even worse?”

He held his hand out to her and twined his fingers with hers when she accepted. “More of the same. Maybe we’ll luck out though. It wasn’t even the noise, the charge in the air….”

“That makes sense. I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.” She didn’t say it with pity, just resignation and a strained attempt to smile. “I hate the thunder, so we’re a fine mess.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, that we are.”

* * *

 

**Reader POV**

I didn’t know what the hell I was doing when he hit the ground but I knew that as scared as I was of the thunder, he was having it far worse than me. I also knew that in the clearing we were actually more at risk from the imminent threat of lightning striking one or both of us.

I resisted the very real urge to wrap my arms around him and protect him, not knowing what that would do to the state he was already in. Touching him at all seemed like a stupid idea even as I lightly grazed his arm with my fingers. He was trembling under my light touch. I needed to comfort him and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to.

I looked around, we were so far from anyone who could help and if I had called Steve he was too far to get us out of the situation too so I just spoke softly and hoped I was reaching him.

The relief that I felt when he cursed, I knew he was still shaken but he was back from whatever horror he’d slipped into and that was enough.

Once we were inside the cover of trees, sitting on slightly damp ground, I felt a little safer from the elements. His hand squeezed mine every once in a while, reassuring one of us, maybe both?

The rolling thunder sounds were bad enough but a sudden loud crack made me curl up on myself. He put his arm around me, “you still with me Cristina?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, god if I could bury myself in the ground it wouldn’t be far enough from that noise. It shakes me to my toes.”

“We’re supposed to fear the thunder because of the lighting.” He said simply. “There was this kid who was afraid of thunder, he was terrified. He wouldn’t let on to anyone but he cried in his tent during thunderstorms. Several guys knew, but nobody gave him any guff for it.”

I was amazed at the softness of his voice as he continued, “when the first bombs went off we all thought he was going to lose it for sure. That kid let out the most ridiculous whoop and laughed like a goddamned hyena. Somebody went up to him and I was just standing there muttering “don’t do it” but they asked him why he wasn’t bothered. “Because I control the thunder now"."

I laid my head on his shoulder, not really sure what to do with the information, just glad he was talking through the storm.

“There’s no real moral there, it was just something that came to me. Ordinarily I’d write it down under random information.”

“Keep talking, I don’t care if it doesn’t even make any sense.” I wasn’t going to ask the fate of the kid, I didn’t want to take him down any unpleasant paths if there were any.

“No, your turn. Tell me something random that doesn’t mean anything to either of us.”

“But it does, it’s part of your history, it means something, even if it doesn’t have an impact, that’s your memory.”

“It should be an old and dusty memory but it’s not. You’d look at a book from that time, brittle and yellowed, smelling like the years and the dust that have collected within its pages, and you’d think, ‘hmm this is ancient’. But for me it was years not decades, still smelling like smoke and blood and dirt.”

“Not that it’s anywhere close to what you’re saying, but I’d bet you could ask a world war two vet about a time then and he’d still smell the smoke and the blood and dirt.” I offered.

“It would have an aged taste to his tongue, faded around the edges.”

“You have a point.” I couldn’t do anything but concede. “But they were there.”

“I should be too, or old and lazily thinking about it as I bounce great-great-grandchildren on my knee, not this. This... too much for my own body, too many of the wrong memories, am I even a person anymore?”

Another thunderclap made me jump, but I was cocooned in this warm space embraced by his ‘too much’ too strong arm, listening to his mellow voice and trying to let him say the things he needed to say without correcting him or coddling him.

“I believe you are, yes. “Enhanced” is what they’re calling you... them.”

He laughed, it was kind of harsh, but he still sounded amused. “Sounds like everyone has a choice when they call it that. Steve had a choice. I didn’t.”

“You’re right, you didn’t have much choice at all. You do now. Can I ask you something?”

“You can say or ask anything you’d like.” He brushed his hand along my arm.

“Do you want to have this procedure? I mean – would you rather just… Sleep?”

“Just be out of commission forever? No. That wouldn’t be fair to…”

“To whom? To Steve? This is your choice. And I’ve never hated the term “out of commission” before now.”

“It’s oddly appropriate.” I almost didn’t hear him. “I do want to do this, I want to fix it what can be fixed and work on the rest. You’re the only one who has asked the opposite question.”

“I worried about it a lot, wondering if you’d thank anyone for putting you through all of this. For dragging you out of a sense of peace into some unknown something. Uncertain possibilities.”

“Well, I’ll thank you for your hard work, no matter how it turns out. You really stuck your neck out for me.”

“People today would call it obsession and call me a stalker.” I confessed, “I don’t know why but I couldn’t get the whole thing out of my head.”

“I’m glad you couldn’t, I mean I don’t know where I’ll go after. If it works, but I’ll have one more piece of _me_ back. I can’t begin to thank you for that.”

“Keeping me sane through this thunderstorm is thanks enough.” I said after jumping due to yet another clap. “How are you holding up?”

“I can feel the electricity. I don’t know if that’s a real thing or imagined. We’re going to just have to call it even, because occupying you through the noise is helping me with the rest.”

We sat for a while longer until the thunder rolled away from us and for an extra few minutes after that just in case.

“I really think it’s moved on now,” I stood up and turned to look at Bucky, “we did it.”

He looked up at me through his lashes and smiled a tender smile, “Yes, we did.”

He took my offered hand and stood in front of me, so close we were touching. His hand moved to my cheek and I covered it with mine. I wanted to reach out for him but waited, giving him the reins. I dropped my hand when his slipped behind my ear and to the nape of my neck and he lowered his head until we were little more than a breath apart.

His lips were turned up in a smile as he asked, “May I?”

‘You may’ was in my head but all that came out was a whispered “yuss” before his lips were on mine.

* * *

 

**Bucky’s POV**

He liked the way she didn’t care that she had gotten wet, the way the rain had made her laugh with joy before the storm’s sounds (and light show) had gotten in the way. He liked how she sat with him, comforting his anxiety, and letting him comfort her fears without judgment. When he stood up and found himself what once would have been inappropriately close to her, he touched her cheek, his thumb resting in the dimple of her smile.

He hadn’t been close to someone in so long, he could only vaguely remember the softness of a woman, the softness of full pink lips on, and between his. The thought made him smile longingly, “May I?” he wasn’t sure but asking was still ok, right? Should he have said “I’m going to kiss you now”?

When she said yes, low and long and drunk sounding, he claimed his prize. Feeling her half-wet tendrils of hair between his fingers as he held her to him, the pervasive odor of electricity was replaced by her spicy, sweet scent from the day’s delicacies. He tasted the richness of the dried fruit when his tongue brushed the cleft between her lips. His hair pulled between her fingers when she held is head, pulling him closer than he’d thought possible. She eagerly joined the explorative kiss, her tongue teasing back at his, her teeth grazing his lower lip.

They simultaneously paused for breath and he stepped back, first date, and first kiss, it was all so sudden. Stolen kisses were a funny thing, good girls would slap his cheek, and he’d smile, because it was worth it. “Bad” girls would encourage him with saucy words and gestures. That was a long time ago though. Bucky wondered what he needed to… was he supposed to apologize for being forward? She smiled at him and those thoughts faded like wisps of smoke in the breeze.

“I’m out of practice.” He said with a soft smile.

“I don’t think so, that was…” she paused to take a deep breath, which made him smile wider, the cheeky slap-on-the-cheek because it was worth it smile. “It was one of the best kisses I’ve ever had.”

He wasn’t about to believe that, he cocked his head to look at her, to challenge her confession, and she laughed.

“It’s true, you’re a very fine kisser Bucky Barnes.”

He’d heard that before, even from some of the cheek-slappers, but that was when he was at the top of his game. Still, it felt good. “I was inspired.” He said sweetly, taking her hand in his. “So back to the apartment?”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s wise. Another storm could be on the heels of that one and it’s going to get dark soon. I hope you don’t mind that I took up your entire day?” she agreed walking alongside him.

“Not only do I not mind, I wish it wasn’t over. I really should spend some time with Steve tomorrow, although god knows I don’t know what we’ll do. But the next day? My last day in the unknown? Would you be able to meet me for lunch or something?”

“I’d be happy to Bucky. As for you and Steve, what did you used to do? He’s probably as lost as you are, but if you have an idea of something, maybe you can lessen the awkwardness for both of you.”

“He tries too hard.” Bucky frowned. “Wants too much.”

“Not really. He wants you happy and healthy. We talked while we waited for you to wake up. Sure, he longs for someone he has ties with from before. But you know what? The little bits you’ve already given him are enough. I think he has to give himself a chance to remember who he used to be too.”

“He’s got his mind and his memories.” Bucky started to disagree.

“He had his life and his past ripped away from him. He has to fit who he used to be before the war with who he is now and he hasn’t been given time for that. He’s been at war ever since he woke up. He said something that made me sad. He was talking about the two of you in your youth and said that he’d forgotten how to be happy. He said that Sam had asked him what made him happy and he couldn’t answer.”

Bucky thought about it, everyone on the block knew angry Steve Rogers, always standing up to people. Very few people ever knew happy Steve Rogers, lying about on a warm day drawing anything and everything in sight, taking up all sides of any slip of paper he could find. Drawing Bucky and a dame dancing, drawing Sarah Rogers untying an apron with a “you boys are in so much trouble” look on her face, all from memory. Steve Rogers dangling his legs over the pier with his pants rolled up and his shirt off, leaning back and soaking up the sun. Pushing Bucky for teasing him about a crush and laughing as Bucky “allowed” one of those shoves to push him into the water.

“I don’t suppose I would know the answer to that either, before today. Thank you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Steve’s POV**

He hadn’t lied about lunch, at least not that it existed, he’d just omitted that if Bucky wasn’t otherwise occupied he’d been invited too. Of course Steve knew that she was interested in Bucky and he thought, after the morning Bucky’d had with her, maybe he was interested in her too. Steve also figured that, not unlike decades ago in another body, Bucky would have him tag along or suggest other plans if he didn’t. However, this wasn’t Steve in another body and he wanted Bucky to see what life on the other side of everything he knew was worth. Especially in light of the decision he was about to make and the responsibility he wanted Steve to take on. So maybe Steve had taken a page out of Nat’s book and did a little setting up. Only the setup was already in place without any help from him, and the escape route for Steve was also fixed.

When Bucky returned looking partially wet and a new level of happy, Steve greeted him, “Did you two succeed in tearing up the town?” Jesus, he sounded like someone’s dad.

Bucky smiled, “left it standing for another day. You shoulda come; she sure knows how to have fun. She did tell me to tell you good night when I walked her back to her place.”

“Your ma would be proud.” Steve said with a grin, “So I see you got caught in the storm?”

“We did, it got intense." Bucky ducked any further explanation by changing the subject, "Hey, Cristina showed me a pretty nice trail for running, if you want to do that in the morning.”

“That’d be great, I was told about a few options. You want to join me?”

“Yeah, I was planning on it.” Bucky started for his room, “I’m going to change into something less wet and muddy, do you want to go get something to eat?”

Steve turned to look at Bucky, “I was about to order something, but if you have something else in mind, yeah, let’s do that.”

“Well I saw a place and got a decent recommendation, and going out sounds interesting. Now that I know you can operate around women, it would be a fun thing to see in action.” Bucky ducked through the doorway before the throw pillow reached him.

Steve could hear Bucky laughing from the other room and let a chuckle go himself. It was good to get a familiar and unprompted reaction from his friend, it went a long way toward making Steve feel pretty optimistic about the next couple of days.

* * *

**Bucky’s POV**

Something that had been dormant for a very long time was awakened in Bucky at some point during his day out. He wanted to be with people, craved it. He wanted to go to the nightclub that he had seen and asked Cristina about. He wanted to enjoy a beer with Steve and maybe try to talk and laugh. The pillow hitting the door jamb was a start.

He looked through the clothes Steve had brought for him, earlier he’d just looked for something comfortable and now he wanted to do it up a little. There were jeans that he didn’t consider being a problem until it came to fastening them one-handed. This is not something he’d had to face. “Well, shit.”

“Buck?” he heard Steve call from the end of the hall.

“You spyin’ on me Steve?”

“Couldn’t help but hear you curse, you tryin' to bring the house down?”

“Come in here, ya don’t have to yell through the place.” Bucky responded almost talking over Steve.

Steve leaned on the door jamb with his arms folded, “What’s up?”

“Not my damned zipper, these clothes aren’t one-arm friendly, what the hell am I supposed to wear? I can’t wear these I’ll need a keeper.” He was part amused and part exasperated at the situation.

“Not exactly a problem I considered, sorry Buck.” Steve uncrossed his arms, and shifted his weight. “I could help you out, if you don’t get all weird about it.”

“Yeah? Gimme a hand then.” Bucky put his hand on his hip, blushing a little at the awkward situation.

The task of buttoning and zipping Bucky's jeans was over in less time than it had taken to fret over it, and he watched as Steve walked back to the door, “Don’t hesitate to ask me to help out, Buck. We’re not really strangers, y’know.”

“I know that.” Bucky shrugged before working his way into a t-shirt. A feat he’d already figured out how to accomplish. “Thanks Steve.”

“Yeah, hurry it up already, I’m getting hungry.” He heard as Steve left the area.

Bucky shook his head, ‘just ask’. He was still getting used to having someone _to_ ask, let alone having to think about _needing to_ ask. He worked his boots on, smiling in spite of himself, and shoved off the bed.

\- - -

Seated in the club, Bucky ordered a beer, laughed at Steve’s reaction to something the server said to him, and looked around. The place had more of the same spirit the rest of the town had, showing a deep seated pride in their heritage with the indigenous art, and the local, spicy aroma. The menu promised more of the exotic flavors he’d enjoyed all day. He recommended a couple of things to Steve, “If they’re anything like the ones I had today, you can’t go wrong.”

The two of them reminisced on their shared past and Steve gave Bucky a little catch-up of his time after the ice as they ate. Bucky still felt stilted talking about anything that didn’t happen before the fall. He had memories he could maybe share, but they were tied to so many things that he couldn’t forget and didn’t want to remember that he kept them to himself. Even something like the light filtering through the windows of the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, which Steve should definitely see, held troubled memories.

Bucky shrugged as small group of young men and women asked to join their table rather spontaneously as the club crowd increased. The conversation started off as a few young people fawning over _Captain America_ , and evolved into something a little more conventional, just a bunch of young people drinking and talking.

The evening proceeded in a way that Steve wasn’t entirely accustomed to and that Bucky didn’t realize he’d missed. He watched Steve pair off with one person from the group at a time to talk with them, while he himself was surrounded by several. At times that got uncomfortable but he was able to tap into something unknown, and smile and laugh through it. As the group prepared to head to their next destination, Steve sat down next to Bucky smiling at something the last girl he’d talked to had to say.

“You’ve learned a thing or two.” Bucky said with a smirk, “Did you get her number? Do I need to go get her and excuse myself?”

“She’s nice,” Steve shrugged with a shy grin, “You pick things up hanging around people like Sam and Tony.”

“How _are_ your friends?” Bucky asked as gently as one can in a club.

“Picking up the pieces.” Steve said dismissively. Bucky let it drop for now, maybe tomorrow he could get more information. He felt he should know what damage his forced involvement had done to the people the man who'd been his best friend cared so much for. People who’d risked so much to help him try to atone for some of the things he’d been forced to do.

“How about you? How have you been coping with everything?”

“It’s been tough. Peggy died just as everything was going down and then you, here. I wanted to rail at you, you know? But I understand why you did this, so I couldn’t. You chose it and I had to be ok with that.”

“I’m sorry about Peggy. You didn’t have to be ok with it, but you would have to accept it at some point. If this doesn’t work, Steve. You have to promise me. It has to be you.”

“Or somebody else will find some way to help you. You can’t just give up. Why do you keep going there?”

“I’m not giving up. I’m facing reality. Something very broken is inside of me and if these people, _all_ of T’Challa’s _specialists_ , scientific and mystical _geniuses_ , can’t fix it, it’s broken for good. How many more times can I really go under? And you saw what I did. I’m a ticking time bomb this way, and you know I’m capable of so much worse. You also know you’d have to stop me then. I’m just asking you to stop me _before_ I hurt one more person.”

“I’ll make this promise and I’ll keep it, but I won’t accept it as an option until they’ve exhausted every trick they can.”

“‘They’ being T’Challa’s people? Right? Don’t make me hold you to it. Your word’s always been good with me Steve.”

“On my ma’s grave.” Steve locked eyes with Bucky.

“Good enough for me.” And it was, because that was almost the strongest oath Steve Rogers could swear, “Let’s forget it for now.”

“Good plan.” Steve answered, taking care of their check. Bucky masked his frown by the time Steve looked up, not wanting to bring the day down. He forced it back into the place where unhappy things go and led the way out to the street.

The activity of the night was lively and a welcome distraction; market day went into the night with dancing, and elders singing accounts of the history of Wakanda in the native tongue. The old meeting the new and instilling pride in the youth of Wakanda. Bucky was stopped by a woman who was probably fifteen years his senior – based on years lived, if he could do the math right; he was maybe thirty-three. She smiled at him, offering him a necklace of beads. He ducked his head to let her apply it, smiling when she kissed his cheek before moving on to Steve with the same goal.

Bucky watched Steve smile and engage and laugh with the woman, this was the Steve that Bucky knew from the privacy of their apartment, in the time he’d been in this new world, it was clear that Steve had finally learned to be a little more comfortable in his skin, showing his real personality out in the open around others, around women. Steve shyly ducked to allow the woman to drape him with a strand of beads.

The serum might have put his friend on every front line, the one place Bucky never wanted Steve to see, but at least it finally gave him the chance to live up to the spirit that had seemed to be doomed to be trapped inside of him. Sure, he was still a bit awkward, but that would change if his friend could see any length of peacetime. Bucky was sure that the rough edges could be ironed out if Steve could just get time to relax and become familiar with the notion of flirting.

He watched the younger girls follow the elder woman’s graceful movements, and smile. The music and the Wakandan songs were thrumming through the streets and through his body, Bucky enjoyed the open welcome they were receiving into their celebration. He was pulled into a rhythmic dance with another of the elder women, her smile was warm and her years were only barely hinted at with her smile lines and a tiny touch of silver laced through her beautiful curls. He laughed as the little girls joined in, learning their heritage, and now learning about a strange newcomer with only one arm.

A very small girl stopped dancing in front of him, looking up at Bucky craning her neck so that she could see all the way to the top of him, she put her skirt and her fist in her mouth as she studied him. He stopped dancing too and got down on one knee to allow her to study him closer. He raised his eyebrows and kept his smile as she cocked her head and considered him. With her free hand she reached out and touched the stump of his arm tenderly. He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, likely the girl’s mother. He held a hand up in her direction and kept his gaze on the young girl.

She said something in Wakandan and he shrugged. He heard a soft voice coming from the direction he’d presumed was the mother, “Halima, isingesi”

“What happened to it?” she asked in her young, melodious voice.

“War.” Was all he answered. It was, both times, it was war. These people knew about war, even a young girl would know the word.

“Imfazwe.” She replied through the fabric of her skirt.

He nodded and smiled, “But I’m fine. I can still dance.” He rose and held his hand out to her.

She took his offered hand and continued dancing as though neither of them had ever stopped. He saw Steve get pulled in by some other young girls and he laughed watching his friend give in to the little girls and let go of some more of that wooden outer shell.

* * *

**Steve’s POV**

Steve watched Bucky interact openly with the little girl, her shy smile as she rejoined him in the dance made the entire trip worth it. He was still uncomfortable with the vow Bucky had pulled out of him, still hopeful that it was just a formality.

He knew that Bucky was right about the possibilities, correction, probabilities, if someone else got to Bucky. He’d have to fight, he’d have to hurt him, and he might actually have to kill him to stop him the next time someone took his choices away. Of course, if there was no other option, he’d be the one, it could only be that way. If the roles were reversed, he’d only want Bucky, or Sam, to do it. Probably Bucky.

“Why the long face?” Bucky asked when they stepped back onto the sidewalk from the middle of the festivities.

“I just hate the ‘what if?’ option.”

“I do too. Believe me, I don’t want it to go that way. If it’s any comfort,” Bucky slung his arm over Steve’s shoulders, “I believe we’re going to be figuring a lot of ‘what am I going to do now?’ problems in a few days, not ‘how are _you_ going to do _it_?’”

“That does help, so the other thing is just worst case scenario.” Steve relaxed under the reassuring physical pressure of his friend’s closeness and peaceful demeanor.

“I am in the right place, these people, their care, and their help? It’s all because I’m in the right place at the right time.”

Steve actually breathed a sigh of relief hearing Bucky say those words. They made their way back to their apartment to the sounds of the festival carrying on behind them getting smaller in the distance.


	10. Chapter 10

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky woke as the predawn sky was starting to lighten. He had gone to bed in his jeans, only stripping his boots and t-shirt prior to lying across the bed, just to close his eyes.

He got up and walked to the sliding door, he was surprised that he’d managed to sleep through the night. He guessed it was really only a few hours but it was more than he’d been able to sleep the previous night. Here he was before dawn on day two. He still thought he’d prefer to just get things over with, but the idea of having some time with his thoughts, time with Steve, before the unknown was also appealing.

Bucky smiled thinking of the night before and how comfortable he’d gotten, it was promising, and he wouldn’t take the gifts, physical and emotional, for granted. His fingers found the bead necklace still resting on his chest. He rubbed one of the beads absently as he looked at the purples and oranges over the mist-covered valley. He heard something coming from the direction of Steve’s balcony and looked over, “Hey.” He said to his just waking friend.

“Hey. You still up for a run?” Steve yawned, scratching his belly through the t-shirt he was wearing.

“Yeah, just need to get something on, meet you down there,” he pointed at the path, “in about ten?”

“Ok.” Steve turned and went back into his room.

Bucky took an extra few minutes looking at the horizon before moving to get cleaned up and dressed for their run. As he tugged a t-shirt over his head, he took the necklace off and placed it gently on the bedside table. Running shoes were today’s clothing challenge, it took a little longer than expected to work the laces one-handed but he managed it with a satisfied smile then started out the door.

Bucky saw Steve stretching as he approached him in the garden below their balconies, “Sorry – I didn't consider the challenge of one-handed shoe-tying.”

“I didn’t consider it either or I’d have come up with an alternative.”

“Well, it’s good to know neither of us is obsessing over my missing arm.” Bucky stopped mid-stretch to look up and smile. “So, the trail runs along this one until we reach the second fork, from there we’ll take the left fork which takes us around the valley along a cliff. That is, unless you’d rather go down into the valley, and through the rainforest.”

“I don’t know what you have planned tomorrow, but maybe we can do the valley-rainforest route tomorrow morning? The first trail sounds appealing today.”

“Perfect, that way we can fit both trails in.” Bucky was pleased that they were both on the same wavelength. He’d seen the rainforest just the day before, and though he wanted to share it with Steve, the storm and his reaction to it was still fresh in his mind.

The pair ran in silence up the graded incline, Bucky watched the sky lighten and change colors with the sunrise as he listened to the sound of their feet slapping the path in tandem. The rhythm was comforting and inspiring. As the incline increased, they pushed themselves into an unspoken race to the top.

Bucky stopped at the summit and grinned, “another race you couldn’t beat me at Rogers?”

“You’re kidding right?” Steve looked out over the misty vale, “I clearly reached the top first. What makes you think you can beat me now?”

“I seem to recall outrunning you the last time we met up.”

“You did not.” Steve put his hands on his hips defiantly.

“I did, you had to commandeer a car, if I recall.”

“To get _ahead of you_.” Steve answered emphatically, “To keep you safe.”

“So, you’d have caught up to me but not overtaken me?” Bucky smirked over his shoulder at Steve from where he was looking across the basin.

“You had a head start. Time was of the essence.” Steve argued.

“Ok, have your delusions.” Bucky chuckled, “Maybe we both reached the top at the same time. Maybe.”

Steve laughed, “best I’m gonna get. So where to?”

“We turn back or we keep going, I think this marks the one-third point, so two more lengths if we go forward. I’m up for it if you are.”

“I say we go for it.” Steve decided.

“You heard the part where I said it’s twice what we just ran right?”

“Yeah, so? It’s mostly downhill. You worried I’ll beat ya?” Steve smirked as he waited for Bucky’s reply.

“I’m not remotely concerned,” Bucky scoffed, “just keep clear of the edge, the trail is fucking close to the drop, and it looks like there’re some tight turns off in the distance.”

“Yeah, let’s keep the falling great distances in the past.” Steve chuckled as his friend’s eyes rolled comically.

“Fuck you.” Bucky slapped Steve on the back and ran off, laughing.

. . .

The trail was more challenging than they’d known, Bucky wasn’t taken by surprise when the first lightning bolt flashed across the sky, today he’d felt the electricity in the air. He stopped unexpectedly before the charge, “Storm, and there’s going to be lightning.” He said quietly when Steve stopped. “I didn’t do so well yesterday with lightning.”

“We need to take cover. What happened yesterday Buck?”

“I collapsed in on myself, I panicked.” Bucky admitted, picking up a stone and worrying it between his finger and thumb. “It’s not the storm, not the rain, or the thunder, it’s the electricity. The ozone in the air”

“Let’s try to focus on finding cover, I’ll be here for the rest,” Steve said, “If there’s another episode.”

Bucky nodded, finding a steep offshoot path that looked like it led down into the forest some distance away, it was barely worn into the earth and had some narrow drop-offs. “We scale this thing and try not to fall or we wait to see if we’re struck by lightning.”

Steve stepped along the path and jumped a distance down to a ledge below, scouting the wall that the path was crudely carved into. “There’s a hole in the wall, we could duck under.” He looked up at Bucky, seeing the sky darken overhead, “we’ll both fit, it’ll be tight.”

Bucky looked over the edge, walking a few feet down the steep ledge before seeing Steve poking his head out of the cave, “Big enough?” he confirmed before deciding to attempt a very off-balance landing. “I’m a little worried about what happens afterward? I can’t exactly climb very gracefully.”

“I can pull you up.” Steve said almost haughtily, stepping out of the cave as lightning lit the distant sky. “Come down, we’ll work out the “up” later.”

Bucky tensed as the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, he breathed evenly and concentrated on relaxing his neck muscles. He jumped down to the ledge as the thunder clapped across the sky. He ducked into the opening ahead of Steve. “You still doin’ ok?” Steve asked as he lowered himself to the dusty, stone floor.

“Yeah, I’m good. So are these storms every time I try to go outside an omen?”

“Nah, I don’t believe in omens.”

“You don’t? You’ve seen some freaky shit Steve, how can you not?”

“ _Because_ I’ve seen freaky shit. That makes me think an omen is just someone’s way of explaining something bigger. My guess is that the weather is normal around here for the time of year. That storm looks like it’s going to stick around though, so we might be holed up in here for a bit.”

“No big deal, we were just going to spend the day loafin’ anyway.” Bucky said, picking up a new stone to worry in his fingers.

Steve found a stone of his own with sharp edges and started scratching the wall that was just an arm’s length from him. “If the lightning passes we can head back and loaf around properly, indoors like we used to on rainy days.” He said between scratches, sketching Bucky’s hand and the stone in it.

“Warmer digs.” Bucky said, looking sideways at Steve. “You still draw?”

“Yeah, I did for a minute when I came out of the ice, things went nuts and I stopped. Recently I’ve started again, the valley we overlook? It’s been my go to place to draw. I guess leaving you behind _again_ really wasn’t an option.”

Steve looked up as Bucky looked down, “Steve, you couldn’t have done anything.”

“I could.” Steve said flatly, making Bucky feel frustrated and almost angry.

“No. You had a mission to complete. You had to stop Schmidt/Redskull, whatever. You had to stop Hydra.”

“See how that worked out?”

“You saved the east coast. You saved our home and the people there. You know that was only the beginning. Things could have gotten a lot worse, a lot quicker. You can’t risk that many for just one person. It’s why I asked you for that promise last night. You can’t risk more people just to save me.”

“I hate that promise, I really do. You’re not just asking me to _watch_ you die this time, but to land the killing blow.” Steve was angry, Bucky could hear it and see it, but his hand was steady as he continued to carve layers of rock from the cave to shade the rendering of his hand.

“I know. Last resort though, I promise. Tell me what’s going on in your world, what happened? How are your friends?”

Steve sighed, setting down his rock, “Things have been tough. Everyone is managing but it hasn’t been easy.” He ran his fingers through his hair and pressed his back against the wall. “Mistakes were made; Clint had been keeping his family a secret, protecting them from SHIELD, and everyone else, to keep them safe. Ross heard Tony mention the family when he was at the raft. Clint can’t see them for fear of exposing them or himself. We’ve all been working things out, trying to lay low.

“Don’t do it Buck, that wasn’t on you. That was Zemo, in his twisted attempt at revenge instead of finding better ways to come to terms with his losses. It was Tony’s fear and pain and rage. It was Clint lashing out at Tony, and it was my stubbornness. You were dragged into all of this. You were living a peaceful life and you were targeted.

“Luckily Scott has a couple of resources and we’ve been able to utilize them to stay safe, Clint has talked to his kids and his wife, Scott has even seen his daughter. It’s not ideal, but hasn’t been quite as much of a struggle recently.”

Bucky listened, he heard the words and he understood _what_ Steve was saying, but that didn’t remove the feeling of culpability. Yeah, he was dragged into it and he was mad as hell about that, but the reason for it didn’t do anything to assuage the guilt of the things he still did, forced or not.

“It’s good you care about them, they cared enough about you to help you help me.” Bucky flinched at the flash of lightning they could see over the ravine, “You probably should have stayed with them, you’d be safer.”

“And not come here when you could be freed from this, from Hydra for good? Besides, I can’t think of a safer place to be than under T’Challa’s protection. Obviously, hosting all of us would be a problem for him with his people, but one or two of us?”

“So, when we’re done here, I’ll be joining your rag-tag group? What’s next for me? I haven’t thought about it because I didn’t want to, but I’m still back to running and hiding.”

“You can absolutely join us; we’re all doing some level of that. We’ve got a sort of plan in motion, though.” Bucky couldn’t help but smile, Steve sounded so earnest, and he looked hopeful.

The rain was pouring outside the opening, splashing inside, spraying them both with the fine muddy beads that bounced off the ground. “I’m sure you do. You didn’t mention Wanda and Sam, is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“They’re both dealing with things. Wanda really had a number done on her, she saved me, hell, she saved hundreds of people when Rumlow tried to take me with him, if she hadn’t removed him, the people on the ground would be dead and buried under collapsed buildings. There’d be more dead even than the tragic deaths of the Wakandans. Vision kept fueling her with the idea that people fear her, which was exactly opposite of everything I was trying to get her to realize.

“Sam lost his partner Riley, and then had to watch Rhodey fall, feeling equally helpless and unable to stop it, a feeling I know all too well. It hasn’t been easy for him, dormant nightmares have been reignited, survivor’s guilt is something we both talk about when either of us is able, and I still almost feel like I’m not qualified because, at the end of the day, there you are.”

“You can see both sides, it makes you qualified and makes it hard to stand you at the same time.” Bucky guessed. “Because no matter how long you grieved, in the end I’m alive and Riley’s not.”

“If you understand him so well, why is it you two are so filled with animosity?”

“Because I tried to kill him.” Bucky’s hair stood on end again causing him to roll his shoulders as a flash lit up the dark, drizzly sky.

“That wasn’t you.” Steve said over a thunderclap.

“We’ve covered that Steve. He’s ok to not let me off the hook, you and Sam have history, you and I have history, but Sam and I will have to work on it. I’ll have to earn his trust. Or try.”

Steve started his cave wall sketching again, drawing Bucky’s profile, applying the right amount of differing strength to shave layers of the soft stone from the wall in to shade and contour the image.

“That’s an odd choice to leave for a cave painting Steve.”

“It’s a carving, not a painting.”

“You’re defacing Wakanda. With my face.” Bucky objected, “and a carving is much more indelible than a mere painting.”

Steve chuckled, “I’ll confess my crimes to T’Challa and pay reparations if I have to.”

“Idiot.” Bucky laughed.

“It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.” Steve joined the laughter.

“Story of your life.” Bucky flinched at a closer jolt of lightning, with the taste of metal on his tongue.

“What would you say if you were me? How would you plead forgiveness for defacing the wall?” Steve asked. Bucky knew he was trying to distract him.

“I’d say, “I was wet and muddy, trapped with a one-armed guy who just kept calling me names, what else could I do?” It’s ok to ask Steve. The lightning is a _very_ physical reminder of the chair. For some it’s the thunder, mimicking explosions. If it was just a thunderstorm, I’d still be outside in the rain. It’s the damned electricity.”

“I figured as much, I didn’t need to ask. Remember being stuck inside in bad weather? We would get cabin fever so bad that we’d make shit up to pass the time.”

“When all you wanted to do was go outside and study the way the rain hit the different surfaces, you drew how many “splash studies”?”

“Not enough, couldn’t go outside – “you’ll catch your death” was so much scarier in my house than other guys’.”

“Only because it was just a thing to say at the other guys’ place, but you – you just might have.”

“Not that you let that stop us, draping extra layers over me and dragging me out under the fire escape to watch the drizzle trail down the different surfaces or God forbid under the train tunnel.”

“I would never. How could you say such a thing? That was expressly against Mrs. Rogers’ daily rules for Steve’s survival.”

“Nevertheless, you did.”

“Dragging you, you say?” Bucky laughed, remembering a really bored and furious friend moping around, “I seem to recall you treading alongside me and any of my ideas quite willingly.”

Steve rolled his eyes with a half smirk, amounting to a complete admission in Bucky’s book. “Well, at least no one could ever accuse you of coddling me.”

“That’s what moms are for. Not that yours was over the top, but she was your ma.”

“We did get a lecture or three coming home from those adventures.” Steve shook his head laughing quietly, “Should I say _you_ got quite a lecture? I was too busy being scrub-dried in frantic haste.”

They both laughed as Bucky stretched his shoulders and leaned against the wall.

They sat in the quiet company of birds calling through the pouring rain, the thunder sounded more and more distant and the bursts of lightning were far less troublesome. Occasionally you could hear the scratching of the now dulling rock on the cave wall as fidgety fingers continued to sketch. A miniature likeness of Wanda with doleful eyes and the pull of a frown joined Bucky’s profile.

“You said she was being manipulated to believe everyone’s afraid of her, have you been able to break through that torment?” Bucky asked as he shifted to get a better look at the cave art, running his thumb over the grooved detail of Wanda’s cheek. Cultivating fear in someone was a cruel punishment and she seemed to be sensitive of her powers. Bucky couldn’t imagine that setting well with Steve.

“I think so, you know as well as anyone that’s not something you can really do for someone else. We’re all supportive, Clint, Sam, & me. I think that’s all we can do, you can’t really tell someone to switch their thinking. It just irks me that he managed to get under her skin like that, knowing what she was dealing with, and undermining it to keep her under lock and key, essentially voluntarily.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

Steve set the dull rock down with a soft smile, “I thought I just did.”

“Ok, so what about Sam? Have you been making his life difficult?”

“No more than I already did. Guy had his shit together and then had to go and meet me. Testament to the quality of the man, he’s been a good friend.”

“I’m glad, you deserve that. You need someone to check you from time to time.”

“Yeah? I just might. I’m kinda hopin’ you’ll be around to take some of the load off Sam.”

“I hope so too.” Bucky smirked, “Not that you don’t need two full time.”

“That’s uncalled for.” But Steve smirked as he dipped his head in a vain effort to hide a blush. “Maybe true, but still.”

Bucky laughed and the two of them sat against the wall of the cave listening to the rain for some time.

* * *

 

**Steve’s POV**

Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was awake when the next thunderclap shook the sky, he had an idea that he himself had dozed. When Bucky pulled his legs up to his chest and held them tightly with his arm, bracing for the next lightning bolt, he knew.

“Jesus, when will this storm let up?” Bucky asked, grumpily.

“I have a feeling you don’t want me to answer.” Steve’s smile was strained, Bucky wasn’t the only one getting edgy by the duration of the storm. It _was_ the thunder that tried his patience. He’d spent so much time being Captain America, he’d started to believe that he wasn’t entitled to be affected by something as insignificant as an intense reaction to unexplained explosive sounds.

“Y’mean we’re stuck here for god knows how long.” Bucky angled a look at Steve, he was being measured. “You’re not as ok with this as you’ve been leading me to believe.”

“Ridiculous. I’m fine.” Steve hedged.

“You’re lyin’ Steve. Thunder? Been readin’ about PTSD, before shit hit the fan. You’re a good candidate. Good as any.” Bucky said quietly, looking past Steve into the sheets of rain outside.

Steve shifted away from the opening, his ass was wet and he was feeling the cold just a little more than was comfortable.

“I know.” Steve said quietly, he thought maybe the rain muffled his voice.

“Then why don’t you let yourself recognize it? It’s not something to be ashamed of.” So much for his not being heard.

“I’m supposed to be above all that.” Steve admitted, he could never, even under extreme circumstances, fool Bucky, even if he thought he was doing a great job of fooling himself.

“Bullshit. You’d be an inspiration to soldiers who think _exactly that_ about themselves.” Bucky said almost as quietly. “Hey, the sound of things, the thunder seems to be off in the opposite direction. Maybe we should chance heading back, sure we’ll get soaked. At least then we can try to get warm indoors. I’m almost willing to chance it, whaddya say?”

“I say I was thinking the same thing, and that Sam would be right behind you calling me out on the other thing.” Steve had to be honest, after all, he was already as open as he could get.

Steve crawled out of the cave and found footing along the wet ledge, he walked beyond the opening a bit, noticing a bit of an incline, if they could work along that part of the ledge, getting back up to the level above them shouldn’t be as difficult, after all, he hadn’t counted on pulling Bucky back up in the middle of sheets of rain.

Bucky came out and they traded glances and Steve gestured toward the new direction, it was under cover of tree growth which was why they hadn’t seen it before, the way was still narrow, but it continued to incline. Bucky followed, watching the ledge and clearly trying _not_ to watch the nothingness beneath it. Steve found the spot where a tree was growing out of the wall, the wild, wonderful rainforest, and all its gifts, even in the midst of its deluge. He tested the angled trunk nearest the wall, it was well rooted. He climbed up onto it and saw another hand-hold that allowed him to climb up with little issue. He jumped back down and turned, wet and smiling, to Bucky, “You go first, you should be able to pull up easily enough.”

“If you say so.” Bucky smirked, brushing his wet hair from his face. “Why did you come back down?”

“I’m not letting anything happen other than you getting over that ledge. I can spot you better from this level.” He wasn’t going to let anything like a wet foothold, or a slippery grip, make him watch his friend fall again.

“You’re the boss.” Bucky hauled himself up onto the trunk, found the hand-hold Steve had found, and with surprising ease, even one-handed, was able to climb up to the next level, the path they’d run in on.

Steve watched and made sure Bucky was firmly standing on solid ground before hauling himself up and over.

“Feel better?” Bucky taunted.

“Yeah. That one small thing actually made me feel a lot better. You’re fucking safe, don’t be a jackass.”

Bucky smiled, “Thanks.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” Steve smiled back.

They took the shortest way back, which was the way they’d come. Splashing mud up their pant-legs and rain soaking them to the skin caused running to lose its entertainment value and it became just a means to get back to warm dry clothes.

At the sliding door to the apartment, they both kicked off their shoes outside the door and stepped inside, dripping on the marble floor that led to the kitchen. Bucky put a kettle on before heading up to his room, Steve made a beeline for his room.

They both met back up in the kitchen wearing dry clothes after standing under warm running water to clean the mud away. Bucky had a towel draped over his head, sopping up the extra wetness in his thick, long hair. He let the towel fall to his shoulders as he prepared two mugs of tea. He handed Steve one of the mugs before sweetening his own with a dollop of honey.

“Thanks.” Steve took the mug into both hands, warming them briefly before taking a sip. “Looks like we’re rained in.”

“I’m ok with that, we got out last night. I’m looking forward to just relaxing now that I’m almost dry and practically warmed up.”

“I don’t know how to relax any more, this should be interesting.” Steve’s smirk was halfhearted.

“Work on those masterpieces you were practicing in the cave. There was that bird on your balcony. I’m surprised you’re passing up such a perfect subject. Or have you ever done a self-portrait?”

Steve chuckled, setting his mug down, the chuckle overtaking him. He bent over laughing and when he sat up again he took a breath, “back in the war, I was drawing this circus monkey in the old theater suit when I found out about your unit being captured, that was my self-portrait.”

Bucky’s grin was soft and distant before he looked up, “Then you should draw an actual self-portrait sometime soon, maybe even today.”

“That’s terrible. How narcissistic do you think I am?”

“Not at all, this is why it should be done. You’d be brutally honest.” Bucky looked over his mug to gauge a response.

“I suppose, maybe not today though.” Steve moved across the space to the seating area in front of the sliding doors, looking out at the rain-soaked garden and the valley below, “something about the vibrant green colors brought out by the rain are making me itch to paint instead of sketch.”

“It’s been a lifetime since I watched you paint.”

“A thrilling pastime, to be sure.” Steve joked.

“It was soothing.” Bucky remembered, “I could always use a calming influence. Don’t suppose you have any painting supplies packed for this trip?”

“No, but I’m 95% positive I could get some in a shockingly short amount of time.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, T’Challa has specified if either of us needs anything we just ask.”

“I still can’t get over how good he’s been to me.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Aside from his trying to kick my ass, and nearly succeeding?” Bucky asked as he sat across from Steve.

“You didn’t do what he’d been led to believe you had, the ass-kicking came before that.” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at Bucky’s interpretation of events.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“You do though.” Steve smirked, the urge to request the art supplies propelling him across the room, “You know you two worked things out.”

Bucky’s sideways grin confirmed what Steve was saying.

* * *

 

**Bucky’s POV**

They spent the afternoon listening to the rain hit the window while Steve painted the view outside. Occasionally they would burst into conversation about this or that, usually a thought from Bucky, sometimes a question Steve had.

Bucky sat with his second mug of tea in hand watching as Steve started to slash greens and browns onto canvas. He was content to observe the rainforest come to life inside. The colorful bird visited the corner of the canvas and a blank space in the center intrigued him. Bucky wondered as new colors joined the image filling in the center slowly. The colors led him to expect Steve’s self-portrait was going to grace the work. Soft angles and peachy colors appeared where definitely something of a face was coming together. That was absolutely a jaw-line and the curve of a cheek, but it wasn’t Steve’s jaw or cheekbone. It wasn’t Steve’s nose.

Bucky was a captive spectator as soft features emerged. Could it be a dame? Wasn’t Sharon, maybe it was Peggy. That made sense. He settled back to watch lazily again with a smile. Maybe he’d ask Steve to paint Cristina if the storm stayed put. Would he give it to her or keep it? That was the question that he pondered while Steve continued to add color to the rainforest and the bust in the center of the image.

Bucky called to order food and watched as the painting’s colors were given more detailed lines and shading and dark hair graced the face in the center. So he called it, it definitely had to be Peggy, or not? Bucky tilted his head trying to get a good look while Steve added details. He hardly recognized the face staring back at him. It was his face but not the face that glowers back at him from mirrors, it was something softer. Something peaceful radiated from that face.

Steve stretched as he stood up in front of his painting when the buzz sounded at the door. He beat Bucky to the door simply because Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of the painting. When Steve settled food on the low coffee table in front of him he still hadn’t looked away.

“So, you’re staring. What do you think?” Steve asked.

“You’re missing something. Dark circles or a scowl. Who even smiles like that?” Bucky only half-teased.

“You did, while I was painting it.” Steve’s self-satisfied smirk was asking to be slugged from his face.

“Yeah?” Bucky couldn’t stop the smile as he reached for his plate. “I told ya your painting was relaxing.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Reader POV**

I knew Bucky would be spending the day with Steve, he’d been nervous about it and we had talked about ways to get out of awkward situations while we weathered the storm. I’m not saying I’m a master at getting _out_ of awkward situations myself. At the very least, we slung some ideas around that might help him. I really did miss him on his day two of his “three-day-pass” because I’d been “seeing” him every day for over a year.

I resisted calling Rehena that day too, because all I would end up doing was second-guess everything. Yes she had this figured out, yes we were both certain he would have to go through the whole process and yes, she would have to subject him to the words. Yes, everything was going to work out just as we’d estimated. We had no reason to believe there would be any other tricks or problems to work through and we had already run a contingency plan in case there were. This wasn’t something we could predict, it was a man’s mind, and it was science and mysticism.

The main reason I didn’t call her, though, was that she was going to need the time to put herself both physically and emotionally in a place where she could control the situation. She would be adjusting her diet and her meditation exercises in anticipation of the day after tomorrow.

On the third day of Bucky’s ‘three day pass’ we met for brunch. I’d talked to him briefly the night before to set it up, and after hearing about his day, I warned him that the weather was here to stay for a while, since the monsoon seemed to be coming in earlier than usual.

Typical. His one break before making a life-altering choice and it had to plague him with lightning storms. This is such a great place to spend time outdoors and for storms to chase him inside isn’t much better than being held captive.

He didn’t seem to be suffering cabin fever when he arrived for Brunch. He brushed the rain-dampened hair from his eyes as he smiled when I opened my door.

“Hi.” He grinned, “Sorry breakfast ended up being brunch. Like I said, I slept in.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re acclimating enough to be able to enjoy a late night and a late morning. Come in, everything is about ready.”

“It’s not my usual habit.” He stepped through the door and took in my apartment. “Wow, all of these photos, did you take them?”

I turned to see him looking at my pseudo gallery wall. “Yeah, everywhere I go, I like to bring a piece of it home with me. Recognize any of them?”

“Yeah! I do actually. You’re very well-traveled.” He stopped in front of a photo I took while I was studying in London. “This place…” he paused, looking closer “It’s different with the new structures, some of this was bombed out. But the old and the new… resilient, people really are resilient aren’t they?”

“Survivors, that’s what we are.” I took his hand to pull him toward the table, “I hope you like a traditional American breakfast. I haven’t had some of these things in a while and thought it would be nice to share.”

“It smells great and it looks like you made enough to feed the village.” Bucky smiled, he didn’t immediately release my hand so it was up to me to withdraw it to offer him a seat.

“I guess I should have invited Steve. I might have gone overboard.”

“I think we’ll manage.” He pulled the chair out and waited, for me to sit.

“I need to serve,” I started to explain.

“No way. I was raised right.” He said as he looked pointedly at the chair.

“So was I, you’re my guest.” I had to try, but he is more patient and more stubborn than even I am.

“Then allow me, as your guest, to help. Or is it because I only have one arm?”

“Oh no you did not. You don’t get to do that.”

“It worked, you’re sitting.” He beamed, crossing to the stove. “I can do this, I think. After all, I managed to tie my own shoes.”

“You’re playing with me.”

“I also mangled a coat-hanger so that I could fasten my own jeans. Only after asking for Steve’s help the first time and deciding I needed a different way to manage it.” He said as he set the skillet on the trivet I had on the table. He served the potatoes and the eggs.

“I’m impressed. You’re getting the hang of things then, if you can tie your shoes and do up your pants. Like I told you, I went overboard, there are pancakes in the oven.” I informed him as I turned to watch him make his way back to the stove.

“I wondered. Could smell’em.” He said as he pulled the hot plate piled with cakes out of the oven, “and then there was the syrup.”

“Ah, yes. Dead giveaway.” I should have known. “It’s not maple though. It’s a syrup made from local fruits and it’s so good, just didn’t want you to be caught off guard, oh but you’d probably smell that too.”

He laughed, “I might have.”

“You can sit, we can clean up all of the dishes at the same time.” I tried to tell him, he just gave me a sideways smile as he took the now-empty plate back to the sink.

“It’s not that far, or that difficult to just do it as I go. Now,” he said as he rounded the counter, “I’ll sit.”

“It’s about time, you’re very thorough.” I teased.

“Everything looks terrific and smells wonderful. I didn’t realize in all our food sampling that I was talking to someone who could not only puzzle their way through my head but also cook a spread like this.”

“You’re amazed that I can do both? Or that I can do the science stuff?”

“Neither. I am just glad your love of food flows over into the act of preparing it. It could be fun to cook together. I’ve got a century of recipes to test.”

“You’re a cook?” I must have looked comically shocked based on the belly laugh he graced me with, “I mean, I just didn’t expect it.”

“Well, I _can_ cook a thing or two, eggs, a pretty mean steak. I have recollections of a fresh caught fish on a campfire and a thick ham-steak that someone managed to procure. Nothing too fancy, but only because there wasn’t ever time. I might have a little of that on my hands – hand? – now.”

“Am I supposed to let the one-handed jokes slide or am I supposed to laugh? I just wanna get the question out of the way right now.”

“Are you kidding? After teasing me about food on my face two days ago you’re going to get sensitive now?” As if his response wasn’t enough, his look would have told me exactly how ridiculous he thought the question was. “So how ‘bout it?”

“What? Oh, cooking together – yes. I like the idea.”

We talked over breakfast, and he made me laugh at stories I’d heard Steve’s version of, and luckily I was able to make him laugh as well. Mostly at my expense, considering the tales were usually some precarious place I found myself while trying to take a picture. He helped me clean up the dishes and we settled near the window, watching the rain run down the glass and talked more. He asked about the places I’d been, encouraging me to talk about them, and even joining in when he knew the spot I mentioned.

I could see the moments he would check himself before saying more, probably cataloging what to say and what to omit, both from the conversation and from his daily memories. He confirmed my suspicion with a simple comment. “I’d always wanted to travel, and then when I got to, I was doing terrible things. I want to be able to think about the places I’ve been and I want to respect the losses people suffered because of what I did there. When I hear you tell of your experiences in a place I’ve been it makes it easier to connect to the location and not the mission.”

“I’m glad it helps and doesn’t make things worse. Will you be traveling when you leave?” Good, those words came out easier than I feared they would.

“I guess. I don’t know where I’ll go. Nothing is calm right now, I’m not sure the timing was quite right for all of this.”

“I’m afraid I’m to blame for that, I was very focused.”

“I’m still very grateful that you were. I just had a reality check when I talked with Steve. It’s ok, I won’t be running from _everything_ now, just most things.”

“I’m sure you could stay. You’d be safe here.”

“I haven’t even _seen_ T’Challa to know if that’s even possible.”

“That’s right, you blew off lunch with him to get stuck in a thunderstorm with me. Shows you how good your judgment is, fresh out of the freezer.”

“Now who needs to wonder if laughing is appropriate?” He chuckled.

“Still me, I think. That was boldly offensive, wasn’t it?”

“No. I like it, your sense of humor is refreshing. You’re not tip-toeing around things and there’s no guilt there.”

“Steve took it hard? Your decision.”

“He did, but he did honor it _as_ my decision. I can’t blame him, really. But he’s not to the point of making jokes.”

“He’s known you longer, and missed you for a long time. It’s understandable that he’s in a different place with it than either you or I.”

“Your grasp of his place in this tells me a lot. You’ve not only talked to him, you like him.” Bucky said.

“I do. He was kind to me when he first met me and he likes you somehow.” I teased. “No, seriously, hearing him regale such warm memories, it’s clear. You’re like brothers.”

“I thought that connection was locked in the past, but after yesterday, just an easy day of no expectations, quiet support, things I really didn’t expect to deserve.” We were sitting, facing each other and he leaned forward, resting his arm on his knee, “I can say as much about the day spent with you too.”

I laughed, “I’m not sure what was so easy about it, but if I left you with a good impression in spite of it, I’m flattered.”

“You did. I’m not even taking the storm into account, because that’s nature, legitimately out of our control, your company and his, made the storms not only endurable, but enjoyable too.”

“You didn’t enjoy the storm.” I accused.

“I didn’t come away with a negative impression either.” He insisted. “I asked Steve to paint you.”

“What?” I looked at him, then out the window at the rain, the thunder was a distant rumble through the nearly soundproof structure of my building, the lightning flashes only making him flinch occasionally. I looked back at him and he was watching me.

“He was painting yesterday, seems it helped him with distraction from the thunder. I thought about it for half of the day before suggesting it. You should see the one he did of me. Not his style as I’m used to it, but it’s amazing.”

“I hope he told you he wasn’t even remotely inspired.” I said with a wink.

“Nope.” He popped the “p”, “he was actually inspired enough to start sketching yesterday. He said he’d get it painted today.”

“Wow.” I leaned forward and put my chin in my hands, “I can’t say I’ve ever been painted before.”

“Even if you have, you haven’t had a Steve Rogers original.” He smirked as he leaned back in his chair, scooting so that he was blissfully slouched with his arm behind his head. He looked at me through the curtain of hair that fell over his eyes as he tipped his head.

“That _is_ an honor.” I agreed with a smirk of my own.

There was a long silence, where both of us just watched the windows sheet with rain, I’d look at him every once in a while, maybe he looked at me too, maybe not. His face was the picture of peace, a smile toying at his lips and an occasional frown. At one point he even had a leg thrown up over the arm of the chair, I smiled at how comfortable he looked.

“What?” he finally asked.

“You, you look cozy.”

“I can’t say the last time I’ve had the opportunity before now. I’m not boring you, am I?”

“I could ask the same?” He threw his head to the side and rolled his eyes, and I laughed. “Ok then, we’re not terribly exciting right now, but neither of us is bored. It’s good.”

**Bucky’s POV**

He liked the way she reacted to his blurted confession about the painting. He hadn’t really decided yet that he was going to mention it but there it was, and although she was humble about it, she seemed pleased.

He settled into the chair, content in the comfort of her apartment. The white furniture was deceptively comfortable and made the room bright in spite of the gray sky outside the half wall of windows.

Looking out over the valley from her floor was an even nicer view than King T’Challa’s apartment, in his opinion, and he wondered to himself why it would be. He thought about the days after tomorrow. What would he do? He wasn’t above talking to T’Challa as Cristina had suggested, but he didn’t want to wear out his welcome either.

He saw her smile and almost felt self-conscious. He couldn’t think of many times he’d just sprawled out and said nothing, and felt peaceful about it. It felt familiar, must have happened often in his sometimes-fuzzy past. From what he recalled, this wasn’t exactly the way to romance a dame, but she seemed to be genuinely enjoying his quiet company as much as he was enjoying hers.

“I feel like I owe you something for taking up space.” He smiled apologetically.

She shifted in her seat, sitting with her legs folded underneath her and sighed, “I hope that feeling passes, Bucky. I’ve enjoyed our conversation and our silence. You’re not taking up space; your company has been a real treat.”

He liked hearing it, even though he hadn’t been angling for a compliment, “I feel the same. I should get out of your hair though; I _think_ I heard something about dinner with the king just before I was leaving this morning. I don’t think skipping out a second time would be very gracious.”

“Well, you are probably right.” She looked mildly disappointed and all he wanted to do was make that look go away. She covered it with a warm smile as she rose from her chair. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.”

Bucky stood next to her and toyed with the braid that fell over her shoulder, “I’d like that. If you could hang around tomorrow, I’d like that too.”

“I’ll be there.” She said with a nervous smile, “If you change your mind…”

His hand moved from the silken rope to her cheek, “I’m not going to change my mind.”

His thumb brushed close to her lower lip and his gaze followed. She ran her hand over his shoulder, along the line of his neck, stepping closer. Bucky softly grazed her lips with his, the feather-soft touch could have been a breath. She returned the gesture, wrapping her free arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

Bucky’s hand moved from her cheek to cup the back of her head, holding her tenderly and exploring her lips. He detected a lingering sweetness, whether from the syrup from breakfast, or just her lovely mouth, he couldn’t be bothered to determine.

She wrapped the crook of her arm around his neck pulling him closer, accepting, and countering his exploration. His hand moved from her hair to her neck, splaying his fingers over her throat, he pulled slowly back; she looked at him through the veil of her lashes. He smiled, their lips still lightly touching. “Just in case you change your mind.”

She put both hands on his face tenderly and placed a quick kiss on his lips, “not gonna happen.”

“Thanks for today. For everything really, but especially for today.” He said, cupping her cheek and caressing her lip with his thumb.

“You’re welcome, but maybe I should thank you.”

“You’re welcome, any time.” He smiled, stepping back. She showed him to the door and he walked backward away from her apartment with a wave before turning and heading out through the stairwell.

**Steve’s POV**

When Bucky came in from his breakfast (date), he had a peculiar smile on his face. “You have a good time?”

“Yup.” Bucky popped the ‘p’.

Steve chuckled to himself, that was all he was going to get, all the prodding in the world would only get “don’t kiss and tell, Steve”, and he definitely had that look. “Hey, I need your help with something.” Steve said instead.

He noticed Bucky’s apparent surprise, was it his request, or was it that he didn’t ask for more details? “Depends. You only ask for help when you’re really in deep.”

“Funny.” Steve rolled his eyes, causing Bucky to laugh, “I’ve been adding color to the painting, I don’t think I have her eyes right. You were just with her. I thought you could take a look and tell me what you think I’m missing.”

“Ohhh. Ok. That kind of help I can manage.” Bucky stepped around to the newly designated 'art corner' of the apartment and looked at the image. “Steve, this is, it’s beautiful. I like how you paid attention to the highlights in her hair. You’re right about the eyes. Her lashes are fuller, and the color of her eyes, it’s just, I think the color isn’t rich enough, maybe a bit warmer, if that makes sense.”

Steve stood next to Bucky, surveying the details he mentioned, he took up his brush and mixed the colors, stroking a line on his palette, “richer like this?”

“That’s closer, yeah, don’t lose the flecks though.” He stepped back to let Steve go to work. “So, we have a dinner engagement? Please tell me it’s not formal, you know what I have to work with.”

“We do, if you’re up to it, and no, it’s casual. It’s not an ‘engagement’ it’s just the three of us.”

“And his contingency of guards.”

“As it should be.” Steve answered, “no matter who the company might be. It was that way for lunch the other day too. You get used to it.”

“ _You_ get used to it. I’ll try not to chew my other arm off in a fit of panic.”

“Why, you got some nefarious plan up your sleeve you need to reach?”

“Hah. Again with the funny. What time?”

“Couple of hours.” Steve bit his lip to keep from smiling. He hadn’t expected to joke about anything so dark and wasn’t sure it was entirely appropriate. “Come take a look, she looks more recognizable now.”

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky had to remind himself not to reach out for the painting, her eyes were as close to perfect as you could get. “It’s close enough.” He said, noncommittally.

“Yeah? What about her lips?”

Bucky flicked his eyes from the painting to Steve, and glared. His frown wobbled when Steve laughed. “Proud of yourself, are ya?”

“I might find myself amusing.” Steve answered. “I like her, she’s nice.”

“I should stay away.” Bucky frowned.

“I didn’t say that. Fact, I was thinking the opposite. If you two are getting used to each other, safest place could also be a good place to get to know one another.”

“We touched on that too. I don’t exactly know how to broach the subject with him, Steve. I hardly know the guy. He suffered my presence because I couldn’t cause any trouble.” Bucky moved to look out the window.

“You out to cause trouble _now_ Barnes?”

“You know what I mean. Frozen, I’m not much of a threat, mostly cargo. Walking and talking, I might offend someone or be considered a threat in some other way.”

“That could happen anywhere. Here, you’re at least able to walk the streets, and he _could_ kick your ass if you did offend someone.”

“You’re really trying to sell this comedy routine.”

Steve crossed the space, placing his hand on Bucky’s left shoulder, “No, Buck. I’m just tryin’ to offer possible solutions. In case you’re tired of running.”

“Tell ya what, I’ll ask. You’re responsible for helping me with more solutions if that fails.”

“We’ve done pretty well with worse plans.”

Bucky wasn’t looking forward to running, but he wasn’t so sure asking for help was going to work in his favor. The last indulgence had been for Steve, he was just the beneficiary.

It wasn’t as if his time here could testify for him, hard to do anything but be on your best behavior when you were in a state of suspended animation. The way he saw it, he didn’t have much to offer.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope our luck picks up, huh?" Bucky said, "Speaking of luck, the rain looks like it’s giving us a break, I’m going for that run we never got, you up for it?”

“I could be persuaded.” Steve smirked, “Meet you outside.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky woke up roughly three hours before he was supposed to go into some room that had been carefully chosen by Dr. Rehena Ekwensi for this voodoo, science project that would supposedly unwind the booby-traps Hydra had set in his mind. Bucky slipped out through the sliding glass door in his room, and bounded over the rail. This time he was dressed for it, complete with shoes. He wore a thick hoodie pulled over his long-sleeved tee, and was warm in a thick pair of fleece track pants.

He didn’t run today, he wanted to wander the trail that he and Steve had run the night before. The sky was clear today, as clear as he hoped his mind would be once he was done with the day. He hadn’t even thought to ask if he was a multi-hour or a multi-day project, but he held out a small hope that tonight he wouldn’t be saying goodbye to the people he loved for good.

Bucky wiped moisture from his face, was it too much to ask that it would be rain? He wanted, more than he’d ever wanted something in his life, for this to work. He distracted himself from the tears by thinking about the dinner that he and Steve had shared with T’Challa.

* * *

 

The food had been nearly as good as any he’d had since waking up, although he’d have to rank brunch above it, not only in company, but also in flavor. He’d never tell his gracious host this, though. The three had eaten, talked current events, well Bucky mostly listened to learn what was going on from the back and forth conversation.

“Based on what I experienced and observed, I have initiated changes in the Accords. The document as it was did not offer enough protections to the enhanced people who were caught behind battle lines. It is going to be a long overhaul.” T’Challa had said, looking at Bucky for emphasis.

“It should have taken longer to draw up in the first place, and perhaps have had some of those enhanced people, especially those on the Avengers team, speak for things that should be considered. It was dropped in our laps in a rush.”

Bucky knew little about the documents that had been contested, but he knew that worry line in Steve’s forehead, he knew the set of his friend’s jaw and from this alone, he was convinced the documents were a mess. One thing he did know was that the government of Wakanda had been huge supporters, so he was more than just a little nervous that another battle might form right at this table if Steve kept this commentary going. He eased back quietly, setting his fork across his plate and listened as they discussed it in a surprisingly, very mature manner.

“I would value your input and be pleased to recommend anything that we can agree on.” The king said with surety, Bucky noticed it was stipulated they agree before he carry it, the man was open but he wasn’t going to give anything to anyone unwarranted.

It gave him hope and it gave him pause, he’d almost not asked, but thoughts of peaceful afternoons with Cristina, and the chance to recover emotionally from the things he’d done were stronger than his anxiety.

As the discussion switched to the day ahead of them, Bucky seized his opportunity. Having been given express permission to call him by name, Bucky started off addressing him formally anyhow, “Your Highness, I was hoping to get the chance to talk to you about what happens after tomorrow.”

“Bucky, please, I thought we had agreed to not be formal in private spaces.”

“We had, but this is kind of, well this is a formal request. I wonder if you’d allow me to stay here. I’ve grown fond of the place in the last three days. I don’t know if you want anything I have to offer, but I’d be willing to do almost anything. You’d still be harboring a fugitive, I understand you’d have that…”

Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder to offer support, and to calm his nervous fast-talking. T’Challa used the moment to interrupt, “I have not rescinded my offer of help based on the outcome of tomorrow’s procedure. If it is successful, you’re still welcome to stay. The same as if it is not, we start over and you are still under my protection.”

“If it’s not successful, we have other plans.” Bucky said darkly.

“Buck.” Steve said in a hushed tone.

“No Steve, a promise is a promise, he should know, so that he can tell you to take our business out of his country.”

“Bucky’s decided that if the procedure doesn’t work, he doesn’t want to keep trying.” Steve said through clenched teeth. Bucky hated that he’d caused Steve this pain.

“Well then. It is a good thing the procedure will not fail. I have the utmost faith in Dr. Ekwensi and in Cristina. I would not have disturbed you if I had not.” T’Challa said with a warm smile toward Bucky. “Do not worry Steve. You will not be fulfilling this painful request.”

“I hope you’re right.”

It was Bucky who said it. They both looked at him with shocked looks.

“Well if this is your hope, why would you not be patient and wait for another attempt?” T’Challa asked.

“I’m tired. Choosing to go back into Cryo was no easy decision. It was by far the most tolerable under your care, so it’s not that. I can’t be a weapon any longer. That fear, it’s worse than the pain of what I’ve done. I can’t go on as a danger to people.”

“It’s not going to happen. I won’t let it.” Steve said resolutely.

“You can’t protect me and the rest of your friends at the same time. I can’t ask you to give your life to become my bodyguard. You’re my friend, you’re my brother, but you have more to live for than this.”

“You can stay. Your request is granted.” T’Challa said, “we will work out what you can do to earn your place. I will not hear any more talk of my people failing. It is not possible.”

Bucky smiled at the engaging smile he was offered, and shook the man’s hand over the table. “Thank you, sir.”

* * *

 

Bucky picked up a flat, smooth stone from the path, rubbing the grit off the surface with his thumb and forefinger, he looked over the valley and smiled, he was going to like it here, he just needed to get through the next few hours – or was that days – he wondered again, how long would this procedure take? Would they listen if he told them to stop. He had no intentions of stopping, but he knew things could go wrong and they hadn’t taken their stroll in his head yet, so they had no idea what they were going to encounter.

Again, he reconsidered his request that Cristina be there. He didn’t want her to be in danger. He didn’t want her to know what ugliness was in his mind, yet, the thought of her _not_ being there made him feel raw.

He felt the rock in his hand crack and realized this walk wasn’t working the wonders he’d hoped it would. He rolled one half of the rock under his ring and pinky finger, and positioned the other half in his index, middle finger and thumb, and flung it as far as he could throw, aiming for a boulder halfway across the ravine. He heard the chunk sound as it echoed in the morning air, and he readied the other half for a more forceful throw, aiming at the same spot, he hoped to hear it shatter, just for the sake of breaking something harmlessly.

After hearing the crushing hit, and the crumble in the quiet sky, Bucky lowered himself to sit on a ledge, dangling his feet as he looked over the lightly misted valley below. His run yesterday with Steve had been quiet and calm, padding feet and beating hearts matching easy breathing.

He’d tried to recall the way it felt to push and to pant, the stitch you’d get in your side a thing of the distant past. He asked Steve, “you ever try to outrun your body? Can you do it?”

“Whaddya mean Buck?”

“Remember before the serum? When you’d gasp sometimes just walkin’ an extra pace? I was thinkin about running and gettin’ winded. Gettin’ that sharp pain. I don’t think I remember exactly what it was like. D’you ever try to remember?”

“No.” Steve had huffed a soft laugh, “I guess I was just happy to be able to breathe, I didn’t worry about not bein’ able to.”

“I guess it’s just tryin’ to piece memories together, some of the little ones get bounced around too.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve tried, you in the mood to put a little extra into it?” Steve had asked, probably to steer away from the uncomfortable inability to respond to a statement that didn’t require a reaction.

“I say we do this.” Bucky had accepted the challenge.

His eyes followed the path they’d taken kicking up dirt in the waning daylight, they had both pushed as far as they could, running at breakneck speeds for fun instead of for their lives. Bucky scrubbed his hand over his face, remembering the last time he’d felt that urge to push himself, being the chase from T’Challa in his threatening Black Panther suit, claws and all. Their relationship had definitely evolved, and maybe it would evolve further now that he was a confirmed resident, or _would be_ a confirmed resident of Wakanda.

Bucky picked himself up and brushed the dirt from his pants before turning back toward the apartment to get ready for the procedure.

* * *

He walked up to the domed building with Steve at his side, they hadn’t said much once Bucky had gotten back. He’d showered, and they’d left, following directions that had been given before they left for dinner. He wasn’t going to try to extract the promise from Steve again, and he was certain Steve preferred it that way. It was a promise, one that Steve had made under duress, but he had no doubt in Steve’s word. Bucky ducked through the low-framed door first and Steve followed, a pace behind.

In contrast to the stark, modern glass and metal of the apartments and the medical buildings, this building and room were very earthy and warm looking. Colors from outside came inside, the sounds of the rainforest wafting through the open windows. There was a small fireplace with a collection of candles instead of a fire, the small flames danced and shimmered off the polished stone.

Bucky looked at the circular room and the soft cushion set in the center of the space as Rehena turned a small device on, bringing soft indigenous music into the mix. “Please, have a seat.” She said with her warm, accented voice, “Steve, you and Cristina will be comfortable over here?” she asked, gesturing a custom, curved sofa that lined the steeply arched wall opposite the fireplace.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Bucky noticed the discomfort in Steve’s voice.

“You’ll be cozy enough.” Bucky said lightly before amending his tone and statement, “If you’d prefer, we can call T’Challa, he can keep everyone safe.”

“I’m sure he could, but I’ll do this.” Bucky recognized the stubborn set of Steve’s jaw and the challenge in the tilt of his head and the set of his shoulders.

“I prefer it, but I don’t want you to be forced into something you’d rather not do.”

“Now you tell me.” Steve said with a smirk that faded too quickly to a frown. Bucky knew he was thinking of the contingency promise.

“Yeah, I’ll do everything I can to make sure it remains that way.” Bucky promised.

“Hey, am I late?” Cristina said cheerfully from the doorway.

Bucky turned toward her voice, she looked like sunrise, cheerful and relaxed. Exactly the opposite of Steve. He rose from the cushion he’d been sitting on and crossed the space to pull her into a hug, “You’re right on time. Do me a huge favor? Keep an eye on him? He’s stressed.”

“Yeah? How about you?”

“I’m _very_ stressed, but apparently you two are sitting over there, so you’ll be a better help to him.”

“Nope. I will sit with you.” She looked at Rehena in challenge.

“Fine, you will stay out of things. You are support only.” Her friend reprimanded her with a sly grin.

Rehena sat on the cushion and called Bucky to her with her hands outstretched. He sat cross-legged in front of her and accepted her hand. She folded both of her soft hands around his one, formerly calloused one. Apparently a year in stasis was good for your skin. He was surprised when Cristina sat down on the cushion directly behind him, with her back against his. She leaned back and tipped her head back on his shoulder, “Lean on me, if you need to.”

He settled back against her and sighed.

Rehena started chanting something rhythmic and he settled against Cristina, his eyes felt heavy and he started to feel like he was floating. A brief moment of panic had him jolt out of it and they started over, with him prepared for the sensation, he drifted into a mist-like trance.


	13. Chapter 13

**Steve’s POV**

He watched the trio, fascinated. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Bucky relaxed the way he was against Cristina’s back. He looked peaceful before Dr. Ekwensi had even started chanting, and whatever it was she was doing with her hands. She appeared to be rubbing Bucky’s hand, both palm and back, massaging between the bones in his hand and along his fingers. She gripped his hand firmly when he jolted out of the relaxed state he’d started to become a part of. She tugged on his wrist and started the massage and the song over again and Steve watched Bucky return to that state of relaxation he’d been nearing before.

Cristina didn’t say anything after she’d told Bucky to lean on her, she sat as quietly and deceptively relaxed as Bucky appeared. He could see her tightening her fist occasionally, giving him the opinion that at least some of the tension he was feeling, she was too.

“Bucky.” Dr. Ekwensi said softly, “We’re going to talk about some things today. Some things will be uncomfortable and some will be painful. You told me you wanted to go through with this; do you want me to give you a clean slate?”

“No. I don’t deserve that. They don’t deserve that. Just make it safe.”

For some reason, Steve thought Bucky sounding normal, in a trance, was odd. Then he thought of the dream state that Wanda had inflicted on them, and dismissed the oddity.

He thought about the choice his friend just made, he could choose to be at peace with the things he’d done, but was taking the burden as a penance. On one hand, he could applaud his friend for this noble act, but on the other, he was upset that Bucky was being given a chance to move forward in the life he deserved. It was, again, Bucky’s choice. He wouldn’t offend either Bucky’s dignity or Peggy’s memory by arguing about it.

**Reader’s POV**

How had I known he would make that choice? Of course, we had talked about it each day we had spent together. He didn’t want to be absolved, he wouldn’t disrespect the families touched by the crimes he’d committed at Hydra’s command. I really had hoped her discreet arguments would sway his thinking but even she never expected that to take off. Frustrated and worried, I focused on clenching and unclenching my fist. Until even the thought of it annoyed me. I looked at my fingers as I spread them over my bent knee. I leaned back against Bucky, with my head on his shoulder again, feeling his breathing even out and settle into rhythm with Rehena’s chanting song.

I regretted not getting there in time to ask how his dinner had gone, and if he’d been able to talk to T’Challa about his future arrangements. In addition, I regretted not telling him how excited I was to have him stick around.

I guess he knows, or suspects. I looked over at Steve and we connected over our mutual helplessness. He gave a half-wink and a sad smile, which I am pretty sure I returned with something equally pathetic.

**Bucky’s POV**

He felt detached and it was unnerving. No sooner had he acknowledged it to himself, the feeling dissipated.

“Bucky, you’re in control, I’m just visiting.” The voice came from inside and outside at the same time. “I won’t open any locks you don’t want me to. But I need you to let me open some of them. You know the ones.”

Locks? He could see the locks, they hadn’t been real, just figurative until now. There was a line of footlockers, each laden with a heavy padlock, some with worn edges, others corroded and seized shut. These were the memories that had been pushed as far back as they could be.

Their labels were blazoned in red and he couldn’t make out the words. He knew he knew them, he knew he could read the language, but he could not only _not_ recognize what language it was, the prickly tingle of electricity buzzed at him if he tried too hard to identify them.

“Bucky, I want you to think about something that will keep you calm. It can be anything but it has to be strong enough to go back to if you need to retreat. Good, you are feeling it.” Rehena’s lyrical voice said inside and around him.

Bucky thought about the mist, the cliff, and the rainforest, the call of the creatures from outside the domed building and from the days of his recent furlough. He thought about the bird on Steve’s balcony and the humor in Steve’s eyes. He thought about Cristina and pancakes and black & white photographs. He pulled the aromas from the room, centering on the smell of Cristina’s hair and held onto them.

“I want you to retreat to your soothing place any time you feel stressed, but I want you to come back when you are again calm. Can you do this?”

He thought he answered, but he didn’t hear anything so he tried again, “yes” it sounded lazy, sleepy almost, to his ears.

“Are you calm? Can we begin?”

At the thought of proceeding, his heart felt enlarged, trying to lodge itself in his throat, and his palms were sweaty. Bucky stayed in that calm place for another moment, remembering to lean back to seek contact. He felt Cristina against his back and breathed. He mentally stepped forward from the pull of the mist, “Yes.” He said again, this time it sounded more like his voice.

“Alright, you have a mission. It will not hurt you nor anyone else. First you must think about the box at your feet. Do not be afraid of the box, I will tell you what is inside and when I am done, I want you to read the label on the box. You will be able to do so, do not fear the obscured label. Inside the box is warmth.”

He saw flames and looked away from the image of the box, the inferno between he and Steve was too wide and too hot.

“Bucky, what is inside that box is a comfort. It will warm the winter nights. It is nothing to be frightened of.”

He saw his friend suffering in a chilled apartment, Mrs. Rogers piling blankets on his shuddering, too thin body.

“Bucky, look again. Your friend is whole and well. You have spent these past nights warm in your apartment and the chill of the rain never reached you nor did it reach Steve. What does the box say?”

Bucky closed his eyes against the static and attempted to pull his hand from Rehena’s.

“You are not alone. You are in control of this. Your box label should be easy to read if you look at it. When you look at the label, you will be able to say the word, and hear it with no fear. The first lock will open and you will see that what I tell you is the truth. When you are ready.”

Bucky relaxed his arm but kept his eyes closed. He felt a lump in his throat and had to push it down before he could look at the symbolic box.

“Печь” he cringed as he said it but felt nothing other than warmth.

“Печь” Rehena repeated. “Warm and sustaining. Comforting and safe.”

Bucky breathed, looking at his safe place, and back at the open box, the corroded padlock was broken and the box’s hinges were disassembled.

“Another box awaits you. I will tell you again what is inside of this box. You now know the routine. Inside this box are scuffles and bruised knuckles, giggles and pranks. Inside this box is the memory of two little boys. Why are there two little boys in this box, Bucky?”

“Steve.” Bucky smiled softly, “and me. I met Steve and we were fast friends.”

“At what age did you two meet?” She asked conversationally, but he thought she knew the answer. How she knew he couldn’t guess.

“Steve was eight. I thought he was six.” Bucky laughed.

**Reader’s POV**

I tried not to panic when he floundered at first and again when Rehena started to explain one of the ‘boxes’, one of the words, _out of order_. I wanted to whirl around and say something but again, she _had_ reassured me she was confident in her plan.

His laugh, small but happy, thinking of his friend warmed me and I looked at Steve. He wasn’t laughing like Bucky was, but he was smiling in spite of himself.

I wondered what was happening, how things “looked” to the two of them. Just being in the room was enlightening, but what would something that seemed so impossible be like for them?

I’d stopped doubting the impossible about two pages into that damned black book, which I saw was nearby, along with the red one. I wondered if he’d seen them yet. I knew he would have to, but I guessed things wouldn’t be going quite as well right now if he had.

I listened as Rehena recounted more things from the ‘box’ labeled “Девять”.

“Your comrades in arms, good strong laughing men who felt as strongly as you did about doing the right thing, Who were they?”

“Dugan, Fallsworth, Jones, Morita, Dernier, Steve and myself. Peggy Carter and Howard Stark too.” He added.

“Were these good people Bucky? Will you let them out of the box to live in your memories?”

I felt him hesitate. His back muscles were tense and I was almost sure he stopped breathing.

**Bucky’s POV**

He stopped talking as he said Howard’s name and retreated to his calm space as they’d agreed. Bucky took a deep breath. He barely heard her ask if they were good people, he wanted to throw up. He felt the stinging in his eyes and blinked.

“Whenever you are ready Bucky. You are not alone.”

“Yes.” Bucky said.

“Yes what, Bucky?” Rehena asked.

“Yes, they were good people.” Bucky theoretically stepped back into the circle of boxes.

“You are back with me? This box is filled with laughter, of course, some pain will always be a part of life, but the laughter is what can help get you through the moments of pain. What does the label say?”

Bucky didn’t look at the box yet. He knew the number, he could see it with its round counter and curved stem. He counted the commandos in his head again, and saw Rehena smile encouragingly. He was distracted by her beauty, and her compassion.

“Bucky, would you join me?” she corrected his course. “How old were you when you met Steve? How many good men did you fight alongside of?

“Девять” he said as she stroked his palm with her thumb.

“Девять” she repeated again. “in any language, it is the number nine. The age you were when you met your brother. The number of people it took to help keep the world safe. Other than those things, it is harmless. It will not hurt you.”

He felt the space spin and a thickness surrounded him. He stood firm in the circle even though the scent of ozone filtered through the mists. Bucky swallowed hard, involuntarily trying to extract his hand from Rehena’s. “Bucky, there is nothing to fear. If you need the calming space, go there, but please unless it is an emergency, do not sever our bond. Can you tell me what is bothering you?”

“The storm.” Bucky guessed.

“There is no storm, today is a clear day. Is there something else it could be?” She asked patiently, stroking the back of Bucky’s hand and wrist with her nimble fingers.

“The chair.” Bucky cringed.

“There is no chair.”

“I can smell it.” He insisted.

“Alright then, I know which box we must open next. It will make things much nicer. Do you cook Bucky?”

He was suddenly almost amused, “A little.”

“But you enjoy good food. Think back to a time when nine-year old Bucky and not-six-year old Steve would have ruled the roost. Did those troublemakers ever steal food from the windowsill?”

“Steve goaded me into snatching a freshly baked apple pie.” Bucky grinned. “He woulda done it himself if he could reach. It was hot, we burned our tongues and our chins on the sauce.”

“What did it smell like? Can you smell it now?”

“A tangy scent with spicy cinnamon, toasty golden crust that was flaky, and how!” Bucky said, sounding youthful and almost carefree.”

“What happened when you got caught? Or did you?” She asked with a smile.

“We didn’t get caught, but we were found out. Can’t reason with a sharp woman like Sarah Rogers that someone swiped her fresh pie off the upper levels. She wouldn’t believe a word of it. We had no dinner because she said we’d eaten our share and everyone else’s too.”

Bucky heard Steve’s chuckle and his smile grew.

“What other scents can you recall from that kitchen? What sights and sounds?”

“The hot scent of freshly ironed cotton, crisp and clean, with very little starch. Golden light streaming through the window, the radio playing low peppered with laughs from our mothers, and from the two of us.” Bucky’s smile softened.

“What does the box say? The box that contains all of this happiness?”

“возвращение на родину” Bucky said without hesitation. “Homecoming”

“This is the place whether in the past or the present, you are allowed to be who you are, no judgements. You are safe there, возвращение на родину”

She set his hand on his folded leg, “Bucky, you should have a drink. We have been at this a while.” Rehena picked up a carved tumbler and placed it in his hand. “If you are hungry, you must let me know. I will not have you passing out from hunger in my home.”

He drank the water, smelling the vague scent of the wood it had been carved from. “I’m fine.” He said with his eyes closed. “Unless you have some of that apple pie.”

He felt the elbow in his back, even though it was a faint hit, and he nudged back with his shoulder. “Let’s keep going.”

Rehena took the cup and set it off to the side, and then took Bucky’s hand again, focusing on his fingers, before massaging the heel of his palm deeply with her thumbs. “How is your mathematic acumen, Bucky?” Rehena asked from what seemed like out of the blue.

“Not too shabby.” He answered, realizing the distinction between her voice inside his head and out was lessening. “Try me.”

“How old were you in 1934?”

“Depends, February or April?” he teased. He felt too comfortable, should that worry him?

“No, it should not” she answered the question he didn’t ask. “I want you to be comfortable at all times, or at least whenever possible. Your birthday, of course, I want to know the answer to your age as of your birthday in 1934.”

Just like before, he could see it but it wouldn’t come out. It was tied to him like an anchor.

“What did you do for that birthday?” She asked in place of her original question.

“Went out and got drunk, got Steve drunker’n me.” Bucky smiled. “Jesus, he wasn’t even sixteen yet and we were sneakin’ around to get a drink. I think I kissed a pretty dame on the dancefloor. That was brash.” Bucky shook his head. “ _Somebody_ laughed at me, little shit.”

“Which birthday was this again, Bucky?”

He felt the tingle of her trickery, saw the script on the box waver, but it wouldn’t clear.

“Did you do anything else untoward on the dancefloor?” Rehena asked as though she were recording his life story.

“Aww, no ma’am.” Bucky blushed like the kid he’d been. “No way. Just stole a kiss, or two. Got away with it b’cause it was my birthday. Same age as what year I was born.”

“The math, it is coming back to you, you swore you were a skilled mathematician, I knew that it would come through. What year were you born, Bucky?”

**Steve’s POV**

This was painful to watch. Steve felt like the fathers he’d seen in parks trying to urge their toddlers to walk, yet struggle not to pick them up before they fell on their faces. He could see when pain was preventing Bucky from answering the questions he wanted to answer. It freaked him out a little, too, to think that a simple equation to determine Bucky’s age in 1934 was stumping his friend’s mind.

Steve had little doubt the answer was flashing behind some barrier, but that just made watching harder.

He had made a promise, he’d stay in case things got dangerous, but there was little danger here with Bucky reduced to almost a kitten on a tuffet. He walked to the door without disturbing anything and looked outside. The air outside was significantly different than it was inside, and it wasn’t just the difference of fresh air to inside air. There was something akin to Wanda’s abilities at work here.

Steve smelled the food cooking a quick walk (for him) away and was propelled toward it without thinking. He got food for everyone and came back to see Bucky still puzzling over the equation of 34-17=17.

He got there in time to hear the question “What year were you born, Bucky?”

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky smelled the food and his stomach growled, as the label on the box practically lit up “Семнадцать” he said gruffly. “Seventeen” he said for himself.

“Семнадцать” A year for fun and frivolity, even if there was difficulty, you had stolen kisses, and friends to laugh at you and with you. A golden year to be celebrated. An age of innocence that no one can steal from you.”

He heard Rehena sigh, “I want you to remember your safe place, check in there now, and we shall return there after you have eaten something. I do believe we are all hungry. Are you comfortable in your safe place Bucky?”

Bucky could smell the food, but he could smell the light scent of Cristina’s hair closer to him, he envisioned the large bird and Steve’s laughter, and stepped through a black and white photograph to touch a silken braid, “Yes.”

“Alright.” She set his hand gently on his knee. “Come, we will eat outside while the weather is still nice.”

Cristina turned and rubbed Bucky’s shoulders, whispering in his ear, “are you ok?”

He turned to her with what he hoped was a smile, “yeah, just a little overwhelmed.” He admitted quietly. If anyone heard him other than her, it would be Steve, but he hoped that he was out of super-earshot.

“I wondered. Well, we know food does good things for us; let’s go outside, like Rehena said. Sun and food will recharge you. You’re doing so well.” She kissed the top of his head then rose and offered a hand up.

“It’s not as gruesome as I’d expected. Yet.” He hopped up in front of her, “Why’d I have to go and say something like that?”

“It’ll be fine. I’m not in the way am I?”

“No! No, you’re possibly the reason I’m still going. Your energy, your strength, they’re a blessing. I don’t want to stop for too long, what if something happens and we have to start over. I should have eaten over the past few days to fast today.”

“Nonsense. That would have been unhealthy so soon after coming out of cryo. This is going to be fine, you’re going to continue where you left off, Rehena knows what she’s doing.”

“Really? I mean I have faith in her, but she’s never done this and what’s it doing to her? She knows the ugliness that’s in my head and she’s feeding me positive energy. I can feel her directing me away from the darkness.”

“She’s done other ceremonies that have similar elements, she’s been preparing since she left you that first day, and she was preparing before. She knows her limitations, Bucky.” She led Bucky outside, and though the room was bright, the sunlight streaming through the trees was bright enough for him to squint and shade his eyes.

“Ok, I know these things, I’m just getting worked up and I need to stop.” Bucky sat on the chair that was at the edge of a patio and looked around the garden on the edge of the rainforest. “Is this Rehena’s home?”

“Yes. She thought it would be the most appropriate place, her energy is strong here, and the place is peaceful, inside and out.”

“But she brought potential danger into her home.” Bucky said, appalled, as he took the food from Steve who had crossed to them as soon as he saw them.

“She brought goodness into her home, with very little expectation of danger. I’m not saying there was no preparation, Bucky, but you have to stop seeing yourself as danger first and a person second. You’re safe and we are too. We have as much faith in you, as you do in Rehena.”

“I’d listen to her Buck, she speaks the truth. The fact that you’re here at all is a testament to your kindness. Your concern is just further proof.”

“Now you gotta stop.” Bucky told Steve, before he took a bite of his food.

“Nope.” Steve adopted Bucky’s latest habit of popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “I don’t.”

Steve sat on the ground near Bucky to eat his food, and Rehena joined them, lowering herself to the clearing as well. Bucky moved to stand to offer his seat before she sat and she waved him off, “If I wanted a chair, there are a more to be had. I am fine being close to the earth. However, if you wanted to give your chair to Steve and join me, the energy could do you good.”

“Energy.”

“The earth is energy, Bucky, everything is energy. Grounding yourself after what we’ve been doing is not a bad idea. Come, join me.” She gestured to him in the manner he was getting accustomed to. “Do not worry; I will not be in your head. You are just going to sit. Sometimes I walk with my feet bare in the yard. The low plants are soft on them and they, too, are energy.”

“She lies across the dirt too.” Cristina said with a chuckle. “She told me to join her once too. Once. All I ended up with was dirt everywhere and a curious snake near my shoulder, which is too close to my face, I’ll have you know.”

Bucky laughed. The image was too good not to laugh at. Although, considering her adventurous nature, he couldn’t imagine it was much of a bother. “Was it all that bad?”

“It was terrible! It was a snake – by my face.” She laughed with everyone. “He didn’t even give me a second thought, really.” She admitted.

Rehena put her hand on Cristina’s leg, “I am glad you owned up to that, because I was going to have to tell them the truth of it.”

“I knew you would. To tell even more truth, it really wasn’t a useless practice. I did find it restorative in a way.”

“If the two of you were teasing and laughing, maybe it was just that?” Steve said, although he didn’t believe what he said himself. He’d seen too much to doubt anything anymore.

“Not entirely that, no.” Cristina admitted. “Of course laughing is medicinal, but the grounding thing really works. I do it sometimes on my run. I was going to do so the morning I ran into you, Bucky. That stone bench is just as much a part of earth as anything and it is a ritual for me.”

“I guess I have been gravitating toward the same thing, I sat on a ledge this morning, just to regroup and I was finding peace that morning on that same bench, and you should have kicked me off it.” Bucky said.

The group finished eating and talking and Bucky was the first on his feet, “Let’s get this show on the road.” He said, dusting his pants off, “Now that I’m tracking dirt into your lovely home.”

“Bucky, my ‘lovely home’ is made from dirt, from mud and stone, actually, a little dust won’t hurt anything. Thank you for your compliment.”

Going back was easier than Bucky had initially feared. Everybody retook their spots, as if positioning were key, even though they all knew it wasn’t. Bucky felt better with something in his stomach and just realized he had skipped breakfast altogether in his anxiety.

“Alright Bucky.” Rehena said with her hands wrapping around his. She paused with a tender smile as Cristina tucked a lock of hair behind Bucky’s ear and kissed his temple.

“Same as before. Lean on me if you need to.” She said close to his ear.

“Thank you.” He said, emotion making his voice gruff. She put her hand on the back of his neck and rubbed a little before removing it and taking up her post behind him.

He felt the pull before Rehena spoke, and he let his mind go where it was being led with the knowledge that if it got worse before it got better, two people would literally have his back and they were both sitting in the room with him.

“Bucky, look around you, are you back in your safe place?” the sound of Rehena’s voice inside and around him took some getting used to, but he guessed he’d prefer it to be disturbing. Too many things that should be disturbing seemed too ordinary.

“Yes.”

“It is time for you to take stock of your progress, look at the opened boxes.”

“Семнадцать – age of innocence; возвращение на родину – safe without judgement; Девять – troublemaking boys; Печь – warmth and comfort.” Bucky said each with a deep breath between them. It was only after he did so that he realized she hadn’t asked.

“Do you see the advancement you’ve made? Do you think that together we will conquer the remaining boxes?”

“Let’s do this.” He thought he sounded ridiculous, but if that’s what it took, he was hoping to get through the remainder of the day successfully.

“I know the next box we should open. Do not worry about this box, it is only filled with the most important things. The light inside this box is the color of sunset and the smell of flowers in July. It is young love and brotherhood. What does it mean to you when I say the words “home” and “freedom”?”

Bucky sat back against Cristina, sighing deeply, before taking several breaths that felt hollow in his chest. The way she said the words, the way she nearly sang them, hit him deeply and hard in the chest. He felt tears burning his eyes and down his cheeks. Gulping sobs, Bucky tried to say what they meant but had no words.

Cristina turned around, putting her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder blade.

“Bucky, the way you’re feeling has a word. Can you read the label on the box and tell me what that word is?”

He wanted his hand back, he wanted to put it on Cristina’s hands around his waist, he wanted to wipe the tears from his face but he sat with his hand being massaged and held, and never feeling sweaty or clammy. He breathed deeply before focusing on the red label emblazoned on the footlocker in front of him in the surreal room inside his head.

“желание.” he sobbed.

“желание.” Rehena repeated, taking the handkerchief from Steve and handing it to Cristina who circled around to Bucky’s side, cupping his chin and dabbing at the tears before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Bucky, the basic freedoms you have been denied are yours for the taking. You are worthy of a home and you are worthy of freedom and you deserve self-indulgences.”

Cristina ran her fingers through the length of Bucky’s hair and sat behind him on her knees, thighs touching his hips as she started to braid the hair. He tipped his head back and sighed.

“Do you need a break Bucky?” Rehena asked

“No.” he said firmly, he knew he could keep going and they’d just had a break. He wasn’t weak, this was just, well it was deep. He took a deep breath and let it out, focusing on the fingers in his hair and Rehena’s firmly and gently on his hand. “No, I can do this.”

“You have opened half of the boxes, Bucky. We are making great progress. It is not a problem to take many breaks, this is very hard work you are doing.”

His mind flickered to what he’d said earlier to Cristina, about the energy Rehena was expending, “but if you need a break, we could.” He conceded.

“I am fine if you are. We are in this together.” Her voice was gentle but strong.

“Continue then.” Bucky said on an exhale.

“As I have stated, you have opened half of the boxes now. Can you tell me what language the labels are written in?”

Bucky tried to focus on the boxes in front of him and it was like a word on the tip of his tongue, something he was sure he knew but he worried about the state of his mind because he couldn’t remember this simple word. The urge to turn around in the circle in his mind hit him as Rehena said, “You can look at the opened boxes for the answer if the sealed ones are not giving you any help.”

In his mind, he whirled around to correct the wrong that was his inability to communicate properly. His vision landed on the box that said ‘возвращение на родину’ and he said the word that had teased the Broca's area of his brain just moments before, “Russian. The words are Russian.”

 “Excellent, Bucky. I want you to choose the next box. If you can recognize the label that is great, if you cannot, that is alright too. Select the next word you would like to set free.”

He turned to the boxes and stood in front of one. He waited, looking to see if the label on the footlocker would clear, but the word stayed obscure and it felt like a static charge when he tried to make it out. When he tried to remember what he’d said before, in answer to the question of what language was on the labels, he felt nauseous, but relieved, when the word settled in his mind, recognizable, “Russian.” He whispered for himself. “This one.” He said firmly.

“Fine, a wonderful choice.” Rehena said with what he thought was a sad smile. That didn’t bode well. What had he done?

“Bucky, this is the box that is all about you and who you are. When you sat on the ledge this morning, who was with you?”

“I was there alone.”

“Were you lonely?”

“No, I was comfortable with my thoughts. I was looking forward to today.” Her smile softened.

“Have you had a rough time these past three days? Has this been a struggle for you?” She raised his hand, placing her palm against his and he realized she meant his missing arm.

“No, I’ve had to adapt some things, it would be nice to have both, but I’ve managed to feed and dress myself, reasonably well.”

“I’m glad it has been easy.”

“I wouldn’t say easy, I had a little help.”

“Oh? How did you come by the help?”

“A friend saved me from mortal embarrassment by making sure I didn’t wander town with food on my face. I didn’t have to ask. Then there was the time I did have to ask for help, it was embarrassing, but he helped anyway.”

“So, even by yourself, even missing an arm, you have not felt isolated?”

“No. I haven’t, I know isolation, and this is far from it.”

“In the event that you are alone, you know that you have people to reach out to, and you have done so. If the feeling of isolation were to overcome you, do you know what you would do?”

“I think I’d get outside. If that didn’t work, I’d probably knock on Cristina’s door, or call Steve.” He said, realizing that he would, even after years of forced and then self-imposed isolation, he wasn’t willing to go back to either.

“I hope you know you can call me as well.” She said. He wondered what any of this had to do with the box and looked down at it to see the word clear.

“Один” He breathed. In the room in his head the box sprang open echoing ‘Sergeant Barnes, You are alone, there is no one to come for you. There is no one to hear your screams. You are the only _one_. Your precious Captain Rogers is dead, no one will take you from us this time. There is only you. You are the _one_ who will bring…’ “They said Steve was dead, they said I was alone. Only. One.”

“Even when you are alone, you do not have to be lonely. One is powerful, each of us is One, and together we are even more impressive. Look around you Bucky.” She took one hand from his and placed it on his chin, lightly gripping and smiling, “Один.”

“Something tells me they’re just going to get worse.” He said sadly. His cheeks and the tips of his ears felt hot.

“Nonsense. They are equally innocuous and offensive at the same time. What kind of adventures did you and Steve have as children?”

He thought for sure the two were unrelated but he shook his head to think. “Typical kid stuff.”

“Somehow I believe you are glossing over some really good story fodder.” She urged. “You lived in the city?”

“We lived in Brooklyn. Used to climb the fire escape to sneak over to Steve’s house. Ma knew what I was up to. Guess she thought it was ok to let me believe I was getting away with somethin. One time we both shinnied down and took off to the Navy Yard. It was a forbidden adventure. We found things there all the time. Used to have sword fights with some nasty jagged discarded metal, musta been Steve’s first shield happened there too.”

“If you were there right now, would you be able to describe it to me? What would you hear and what would you smell?”

Bucky squared his shoulders and inhaled deeply through his nose, “Water lapping against the beach, clanging tools, and metal. Curse words, we learned a lot of swears there. It smells like, like the shore and like metal, a biting scent, the blood from our cuts mixing with the metallic odor… it’s…” he wrinkled his nose, “It’s ржaвый”

“ржaвый. The word has an odor, it also has a color, and it is good that you have a good memory of your playful friendship and your childhood to link to this color and aroma. It is even a color you’ll find in many places in my home.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell, and he retreated to the safe place, cleansing the metallic odor from his memory with the spicy fragrance of the room mingling with the aroma of Cristina’s hair. “Is there water nearby? I think I need a break.”

“I believe we deserve it.” Rehena handed him the water, and though it was room temperature, it was cooling. She rose and crossed the room, picking up a bottle containing what looked like amber liquid. She removed the top, poured a small puddle of it into her palm, and rubbed her hands and wrists.

It smelled sweet and spicy. He identified it as part of the overall scent of the room, and found it pleasant and soothing.

He watched as she went through one of the two doorways and then as she returned moments later with a tray. She stopped by Steve, who took the tray from her and the drink on it. She put a hand on his shoulder with a smile. Steve crossed the room to where he and Cristina still sat, her hand on his neck, rubbing at the tension there. He handed them each a drink before setting the tray aside. “How are you holding up?” He asked, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“It hasn’t gone bad yet, so I guess I’m ok.” Bucky said with a half-smile. “I still feel like maybe it’s going too well.”

“I’m pretty sure that has a lot to do with the fact that they’ve been preparing for this for a while. I’m relieved that there’s a way to go through this process without tearing you apart again. You know, I forgot about the Navy Yard battle.” Steve smiled, “Coulda died. Didn’t even have the tetanus vaccine then.”

“Yeah, you coulda died a lot of times. You didn’t. You’re not supposed to, maybe neither of us is.”

Steve took his drink back to the sofa and settled back. He knew there were three words left, he knew each was taking more of a toll than Bucky was letting on, and he was surprised to see that the sun was setting.

Rehena settled in front of Bucky again, sipping her beverage. “This is good,” Bucky said as he took a long drink, “What is it?”

“It is a beverage from the fruits and flowers of my garden. I find that it is refreshing for the mind, and we have probably a few hours to go before we are to be finished, so, I thought we could use the help. I am glad you like it.”

“I’m sorry it’s taking so long.” Bucky resolved not to take any more time from this kind woman.

“You are not allowed to apologize, I am the one insisting you have as many breaks as you need. We all knew that it would be a long process. You cannot tax your mind more than it is capable of giving at one time, or this will not be successful and I would hate it if you were to do something rash just because we failed to take the proper number of breaks and the process was incomplete. Promise me, instead of apologizing, that we will get through this at the highest level of our abilities. You are a dedicated soldier and friend, you have it in you to make me this promise, but it is yours to give, not mine to extract.”

“Even if it takes all night?”

“Even if we are going into the next morning. We will break as often as we need to and it can take as long as it takes. You are undoing some very intricate work, it is going to take time if we want to keep from doing any more damage. If I could wave a hand and give you a potion, I would, but hard won things are always more permanent.”

“You’re right, of course.” Bucky took another drink of the fragrant, sweet nectar.

“Then do I have your promise? Or do you need time to think about it?”

“I promise, I want to get through this with success. I honestly do not have a death wish, just a contingency plan.”

“Well then. We are not going to need that contingency as long as you are the type to keep your promises. Are you ready to go back to work?”

“I need a few more minutes, stretch my legs and stuff.” He smiled as he rose to his feet and walked outside into the night air. It smelled like there could be more rain coming. The breeze was just light enough to tickle the short wisps of hair on his neck and he put his hand up to his head, felt the intricate braids on either side, and smiled. Sure, 80 years ago, this would have been an atrocity, but he’d seen real life horrors, and some braids in his also-once-unacceptably long hair was nothing.

He circled the house, entering the kitchen through the back door and stepped into the bathroom to get a look. He smirked at the reflection. This face, this reflection was familiar, and he realized it was from Steve’s painting. Maybe being here was going to be a good thing, maybe tonight would go well and there wouldn’t be any reason for Steve’s promise. After making use of the facilities, he headed back to hear the trio talking about the process, and about him, Steve looked up, sheepish.

“Thought you took off.”

“I’m this close, no, I wouldn’t do that. Got caught up in the night air, and then in my reflection in the bathroom mirror, to tell the truth.”

“I can take them out, if you don’t like it.” Cristina said with a blush.

“I do.” Bucky smiled. He sat next to her on the sofa, “How are you holding up? If you’re tired, you can go home, I’m sure Steve would see you there safely, and let you know how things go in the morning.”

“Don’t even; I’m in it for the long haul.” She took his hand, twining their fingers, “unless you want me to leave.”

“No. I just don’t want to be selfish and keep everyone here.” Bucky lifted their hands and kissed the back of hers. “So, if everyone’s ready, I want to get back to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! I knew this part would be long and it was over 12K words long, so I was forced to break it up. I promise the next chapter will follow soon, I'd like to wait a day so that the notifications don't get messed up for subscribers ;) It's written!! I promise!
> 
> Longing: желание (zhelaniye)  
> Rusted: ржaвый (rzhavyy)  
> Seventeen: Семнадцать (Semnadtsat’ )  
> Daybreak: Рассвет (Rassvet)  
> Furnace: Печь (Pech’)  
> Nine: Девять (Devyat’ )  
> Benign: добросердечный (dobroserdechnyy)  
> Homecoming: возвращение на родину (vozvrashcheniye na rodinu)  
> One: Один (Odin)  
> Freight car: грузовой вагон (gruzovoy vagon)  
> Soldat: солдат


	14. Chapter 14

**Bucky’s POV**

Rehena took the now familiar and still not uncomfortable position facing him, sitting so close that their knees nearly touched. She poured some of the amber colored oil onto her hand again and took his hand in hers, rubbing the lightly scented, spicy oil on and into the skin on his hand, “Bucky, let me know when you are ready to step out of your safe zone. Just three boxes left to open and then we can get to work.”

“Oh, ok. So this hasn’t been work?” Bucky smiled before settling into the massage and the reassuring feel of Cristina at his back again. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet nectar aroma with the spicy oil and her softly floral hair. He felt the pull as he drifted into his safe place, the dream image of himself touched the mists that floated around him. He stepped to the edge of the circle to see discarded hinges and padlocks, footlocker lids scattered on top of each other and empty boxes with bright red Russian words were on them.

“Семнадцать – age of innocence; возвращение на родину – safe without judgement; Девять – troublemaking boys; Печь – warmth and comfort.” He recalled, “желание – worthy and deserving; Один – alone, not lonely, One is power; ржaвый – playful friendship. Three to go.”

“Very good, you’re doing very well. I will choose an easy one.”

“I thought you said they were all equal.” Bucky frowned.

“I did, but that does not mean I always have the answers, I want an easy one. Did you not know I was doing this all without a script? I know what I need to know, but until we were together, I was not able to know what you needed to know.”

“So, you’re telling me that you know what needs to be done but you need me to help you figure out how?”

“Yes. How do you like that confession?” she asked with a little laugh.

“I’m not sure. Am I supposed to like knowing you’re winging it?”

“This one for sure.” She said, pointing at the box at his feet. “Why do you like Cristina?”

“Because she is kind. She’s funny, she’s compassionate, and she puts up with me, and my moods. She’s not too bad with hair either.” He didn’t know why they weren’t starting yet, but he didn’t mind this tangent, “I’ve never met a more gentle soul.”

“It is good that you revere her. She is my friend, so I would be offended if you could not see her value. What does the label say?”

He looked at Rehena with a panicked feeling and she smiled encouragingly.

“The box? What does the label say?”

When he looked at the box at his feet, he saw the word clearly, even though he expected it to be obscured, “добросердечный”

“добросердечный, a compassionate, gentle soul.”

“You tricked me.” Bucky said with a hint of humor.

“No, I told you I wanted an easy one.” She rubbed the heel of his palm deeply with her thumbs, then his wrist, “The next box, right next to the last one, you’re so close and you’ve done so well, you would not want to just read that label for me would you?”

He looked, strained even, to make out the label, “No. I want to but it – I can’t.”

“Do not worry, it will come. I was just hopeful that we could be closer to the end of this adventure. Do you have any more stories to tell me of the adventures of Bucky and Steve? Did you ever dream of traveling?”

“Did we ever?! We used to talk to the hobos on the tracks and ask them about traveling. Some were just cantankerous, but others had great tales to tell of the whole nation. Said hopping the rails was the best way to see the world and become a man.”

“How would you manage it?” She asked. “In your plans?”

“Even though we never coulda, this one guy said someone sickly as Steve would never survive, gotta run fast, and jump high to make the train. Even so, we’d listen to the stories and learn the train schedules so we knew when we would leave and where we would wind up. Talked an awful lot about going places. Me ‘n Steve even practiced jumping on the disconnected ones.”

“The disconnected train?”

“Well the – you know, the ones that were left for unloading or for repairs and stuff.” Bucky’s fingers twitched in hers, “Before…”

“We’re only talking about before, you were nine or ten? Would that make Steve a full-fledged eight or nine?”

“Yeah. He could get a leg up pretty good, but never without a boost, so we were never gonna hop the rails.” Bucky felt beads of sweat on his brow and knew she was trying to steer him from the alps and he loved her for it, but he couldn’t keep it up, and fled to his safe place.

His shoulders drooped and Rehena let his hand drop, picking up the earlier discarded handkerchief, and wiping his brow and the tears from his cheeks. She shushed everyone with just a finger on her lips as Bucky breathed shuddering breaths, his head lowered and nearly in his lap.

Cristina turned and put her hands on his back, rubbing circles over its expanse. She spread her hands up his torso and over his shoulders and down his arm and over the stump on his left side, before slipping her left arm around his chest. He put his hand over hers and gave a small squeeze before sitting up again.

He moved from the safe place back to the broken ring of boxes, two left, ‘the train, the _one in Brooklyn_. Think about the one in Brooklyn.’ He thought.

Rehena took his hand when he held it out to her, and held it gently. “let me know when you are back, Bucky.”

It seemed like so long before he said anything, he thought he might have fallen asleep. Maybe this was the sticking point and he was going to fail with two words left. Two pieces of this twisted puzzle that could unlock his future and he was going to blow it.

“Bucky this is the first real hiccup we have encountered and it waited to happen until the end. You are doing an amazing job and we can continue whenever you’re ready, you do not have to worry about anything.”

He wasn’t used to her knowing his thoughts and it threw him again, and he swore he heard her chuckle.

Taking a deep breath, he’d lost count of how many times he’d had to do so today, he stepped toward the circle again.

“Steve was small and could not hop up onto that train without you giving him a boost. You would always do so, on the train, on the fire escape, that is the sign of a good friend. When you managed to get up in your practice sessions, what would you do once inside?”

“Lie around mostly, pretendin’ the train was goin to Florida or to Hollywood. We would go to the Grand Canyon an’ we’d see wild animals in the desert.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

“We had a close call one time, we’d just gotten up. I jumped up after Steve boosted up and we heard screaming, so we jumped off that car out the other door and lit out of there ‘fast as we could. Steve had to stop to breathe and he hid low behind a discarded crate. I think that was the last time or maybe the second to the last time we ever messed around on the грузовой вагон, I mean freight car.”

“грузовой вагон, transportation to new adventures. Very well done. What would you say if I told you I thought this next one would be another easy one?”

“I’d say you’ve lost your grasp on reality, there’s no way.”

“Look around you. Look at the room we are sitting in.”

Bucky saw Steve sitting on the sofa, leaned back against the arm and back with his eyes closed, and he looked at the cushion they were sitting on to see Cristina lying within inches of his left thigh. When he looked further around the room, he noticed the dark sky out the windows was starting to lighten.

“I am willing to bet you have memories of this time of day. Tell me some of them.”

“I would wake up and hear singing in the kitchen, Ma would be making bread or getting ready to make pancakes. Maybe she would be cleaning up from the night before if she had decided to give herself the break. Sometimes she would be ironing. She said that it was a magic time for her because her needy family wasn’t needy for a few minutes. She said she loved being needed but she loved the quiet of the hour before the sun came up. I moved to shuffle back to bed and she said “No. I also love being visited by my son, stay with me and watch the sunrise.” And I did, a few times, sometimes I would just stand in the doorway and listen before going back to bed.”

“Do you still enjoy this time of day?”

“I think I might, again, if not still. It is a magic time, I can be invisible if I need to be. I met Cristina at this time of day too.” He smiled, “Рассвет”

“Рассвет, time for yourself, songs in the kitchen and new relationships.”

“Семнадцать – age of innocence; возвращение на родину – safe without judgement; Девять – troublemaking boys; Печь – warmth and comfort.” He recalled, “желание – worthy and deserving; Один – alone, not lonely, One is power; ржaвый – playful friendship; добросердечный, a compassionate, gentle soul; грузовой вагон, transportation to new adventures; Рассвет, time for me, and new relationships.” Bucky repeated the list of words, as though he were having a conversation, something he was sure if you’d asked at the start, he couldn’t do.

“Let me try something.” Rehena said quietly, “Семнадцать; возвращение на родину; Девять; Печь; желание; Один; ржaвый; добросердечный; грузовой вагон; Рассвет.” He was sure she knew they were not _in order_ , clearly she wanted to know if they had any impact in a different arrangement, and they didn’t, they didn’t even tingle at the edges of his mind as they had at the start.

“Don’t say them in order.” He wasn’t panicking, just practical. “Not until Steve’s awake. Just in case.”

“But if this whole day was for nothing, and the words still had their hold on you, would you not be under my command? Would I not be able to command you to protect me and do my bidding? Including _not harming_ my guests?”

“Theoretically, but do you really want to take that chance?”

“I want to take the chance that our whole day was _not_ for nothing, and that we are a successful team.”

“Well nobody can accuse you of not knowing what you want. Would you make me do it without feeling as safe as possible? I didn’t know that was the type of trust I was giving.”

“Of course I would not. I just want you to consider the thought that I trust what we have done. Oh well, if we are going to wait, we might as well get some breakfast put together for everyone and do it on a full stomach. Last meals, and all that.” Rehena rose gracefully and held a hand out for Bucky to take. “Your assistance is required.” He was surprised at her strength as she tugged him to his feet.

She led him outside to her gardens, some of which included the bordering rainforest, “we are going to gather some fruits, and some leaves for tea.”

“I thought tea leaves had to be cured.” He said as he followed.

“Of course, but if we use tea that I have cured what will happen if I do not replace the leaves we use?”

“You’ll run out.”

“Precisely. I will be using four times as much tea today as I used yesterday. I will need to replenish the leaves. Would you rather gather the fruits or the herbs?”

“One of these days, perhaps you’ll show me the proper way to harvest _and_ cure tea leaves, until then, I’ll work with the fruits.” He said eagerly.

It was faster that way; after all, she had both hands to work with. As soon as they had gathered enough for the day, Bucky followed Rehena into the kitchen where she started working on a dough mixture.

“Bread? Won’t that take all day?”

“No my dear, not bread, something a little special for today. Mandazi.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder from where he was washing the fruit, “mandazi?”

“Yes. You trust me with everything but this?” she teased.

“Not doubting, simply curious. I’m good with a knife, but not this good, hopefully everyone is grown up enough to pare their own fruit.” He said good-naturedly. “What else do you have for me to do?”

She set her dough aside and started paring the fruits, “you can help by placing these onto the serving plate. The labor comes when the dough rises. Meanwhile you and I can talk. You said you would like me to help you learn about tea. Does that mean you are staying?”

“Yes, King T’Challa granted permission last night over dinner. I’m honored and relieved. He and you can keep an eye on me in case anything happens.”

“What do you expect to happen?”

“I don’t know, a relapse? Some kind of breakdown?”

“I am sorry that you expect bad things to come when all you deserve is good. Of course I’ll be happy to keep an eye on you, as your friend, not as your watchdog.”

“I don’t know that I do deserve good things, I did very bad things.”

“I know.” She said sadly, and then turned to face him, “I am impressed that you were offered a chance to be relieved of those things yet you choose to shoulder the burden of them. Your reason for doing so is honorable. I want your permission to do something during the next step of our process.”

He was quiet for a while, thinking about what she said, thinking about how easy it would be just to let the sins of his past go into the mists. He shook the idea away with the reminder that he had struggled to regain his memories, as with anything, there were good and bad ones to deal with. He still had holes in his memory that disturbed his peace, he didn’t want more holes, and he didn’t want the losses of others to be diminished because he could no longer remember them.

The people he’d wronged deserved more. He wouldn’t choose to dishonor them by absolving himself, he looked at Rehena, surprised that she was finished with the fruit and had started preparing the tea. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. I suppose it would depend on what it is you think needs my permission?”

“In case the work we’ve done over the past day brings nightmares to the forefront, I would like to put a temporary suggestion in place to help alleviate them. Additionally, I would offer my company as one of your tools for dealing with any nightmares that do present themselves.”

“If you can help with nightmares, without rewriting my mind, I might be open to that.” He smiled tentatively, “Do you think there will be more? More nightmares?”

“We have dealt with some dark things in the lightest way I could manage; your mind might try to process the darker pieces in the safety of your sleep. I expect an influx of dreams to cope with the processes we both know were behind getting those words to mean something they could twist to their benefit. I would not be able to stop the dreams, but I can offer some relief as they happen.”

“I say yes. I wouldn’t want you to stop them, I have no love for the interruptions to my sleep, and I have strong reactions to the things I’m forced to relive, but they are part of being who I am. They are part of what reminds me that I am ME, but if you can alleviate the severity of them for a little while, I wouldn’t object.”

“I will be discreet.” She answered, “come, time to help me with the fun part of breakfast.”

She transferred the dough to the counter and rolled it, bringing back memories of mothers in kitchens. Bucky stood with a hip braced against the counter, waiting for instruction. Once the dough was flattened, she put a pan on the stove and set oil to heat. He watched her movements, graceful and purposeful and the nostalgia of mornings past welled up in his chest.

He shuddered a breath to make room for the feeling. When she turned to him, she said nothing of the swipe he made over a dropped tear, she simply handed him a knife and said, “You brag of your skill with a knife? I need this dough trimmed into triangles about this big.” She held up her hand, her fingers spread to indicate the size.”

He grinned at her like a child before setting to work at his task. He liked Rehena more and more. He watched her walk to the doorway and peer into the room where Steve and Cristina slept and she turned back, “Still sleeping. How are my mandazi coming?”

He apologized and started his assigned task. It was slightly challenging, but the knife was nice and sharp, once he figured the best method to score the dough without it moving across the counter surface, he had the mandazi cut to specification.

She instructed him the safest (no hot oil splash back) method of placing the sections of dough into the oil and monitored them as she explained when to turn them and when to remove them.

Bucky was halfway through the final batch when Steve came to the doorway, looking disheveled and hungry. “What’s cookin’?” he asked with humor in his voice.

“Breakfast, apparently.” Bucky answered. “Sleep well?”

“Not as poorly as you’d expect, that sofa is pretty comfortable. Thank you.” Steve said to Rehena as she pressed a small, mug of hot coffee into his hand.

Bucky didn’t even know there was coffee; the aromas of everything he was surrounded by had obscured the fragrance that now wafted his way. “Is that coffee?” he looked at Rehena with his brows raised, a sweet smile on his face.

“It is, but not for you. You will have tea, with me.” She said, again recalling mothers in kitchens, this time disciplining young boys.

“I suppose you’re right.” He pouted, “After?”

Rehena looked at Steve, “You are responsible for making sure coffee is ready for _after_.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve responded, “After? So you didn’t…”

“We have conquered all of the words, we need to test them, we waited for you to be awake, Bucky wanted to ensure that everyone was safe, and I wanted to ensure that everyone was well fed.”

“It smells great.” Steve crossed to the stove, “what ya makin’ Buck?”

“Mandazi. Just fryin’ em up. Rehena did the ‘making’.”

“Nonsense, we are a team. Without me there’d be no dough, without you dough is all we’d have.” Rehena disappeared into the main room.

“How are you holding up?” Steve asked, standing near the stove, taking a drink of his coffee.

“I could really use that coffee.” Bucky said, plating the last of the hot, fried dough. “Other than that, I think I’m ok, all things considered. Still nervous about what comes next. Out of that, trance, or whatever it is, I still feel hazy about ‘the words’. I guess we haven’t completed everything so I’m going to assume that it’s _normal_?”

“Whatever normal is for guys like us.” Steve agreed. “Are you ok physically? Don’t you need a rest?”

“I’m good Steve. I think I’m charged enough that I won’t rest. I might crash hard afterward though. How long will you be staying?”

“In Wakanda, I’ll stay at least through the week. I’d like to help you get settled, and it’ll be a couple of months before I could get back, so maybe a little more time to catch up, if you’re open to it.”

“I’m open. I’m open to a lot more these days. I have to thank you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No you don’t. Just sneak me one of those mandazi before the girls come back.” Steve winked with a smirk.

Bucky pulled a cotton towel back from a plate piled with warm mandazi, then feigned looking away while Steve swiped one. He watched as Steve’s face expressed joy over the flavors he was savoring. Bucky was tempted to snatch one too, but wanted to give Rehena the respect she deserved. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t resist misbehaving with Steve around. That was all Steve.

Cristina came through the kitchen door as Steve swallowed the last evidence with his back to the door. “Good morning fellas.” She said with a yawn. She crossed to the coffee pot and poured her own.

“Good morning.” They said in unison.

“Steve, would you take this tray and this pitcher out to the table in the yard?” Rehena asked, “You can wait for the rest of us to join you before having more mandazi.”

Steve had the good sense to blush as he took the pitcher; Bucky took the teapot from Rehena and followed, chuckling, leaving Cristina and Rehena to bring the plates and cups on another couple of trays.

They ate their breakfast under the canopy of trees, mostly quiet, Bucky was preoccupied with thoughts of the next step and he figured everyone else was either going through the motions of waking up, and enjoying the flavors, how could they not? Or in Rehena’s case, preoccupied with what she needed to do next.

“Bucky,” Rehena said as she poured her second mug of tea, “What would you say if we were to proceed out here instead of inside? The weather appears to favor us again today and the space would be perfect.”

“Whatever works best for you?” Bucky asked in return, “I’m ok either way.”

“Whatever works best for both of us, remember, we are a team. Good then, we will proceed. Bring your juice with you, and another mandazi.” She smiled warmly.

Bucky was still a little sidelined by how many times she reminded him of his mother, it had to be from all of the recollections, he felt he must be processing the feelings and memories the only way his mind knows. He followed Rehena and sat across from her on the stone that had been warmed by the morning sun.

She put her hands on his knees, “Are you ready?”

“Safe zone and join you on the other side.” Bucky said with a breath. “Let’s do this.”

He briefly noticed Steve take up a spot nearby with an increased sense of duty and his confidence wavered, he cursed his bottom lip for quivering and his eyes for pooling. Cristina walked near him and put her hand on top of his head in a sweet gesture before lowering herself to sit behind him.

“No.” he said sternly, “you should be by Steve, or behind Steve, or in another place altogether.”

“If you truly don’t want me here, I’ll go, but if you do, you’re stuck with me, at your back, like I have been through most of this. He’s doing a duty because you requested it, not because of lack of trust. I trust this process, he does, and so does Rehena. You do too, so trust yourself now. I’m staying put. Lean on me if you need to, just like before.”

Bucky closed his eyes and conceded. “Ok, Steve says scramble, you fucking scramble.”

“You have my word.” She said, leaning her head against the curve of the back of his neck.

He took Rehena’s offered hand with his eyes closed. He found the predetermined spot after several failed attempts, his mind and body working together to make it difficult to find the calm he needed. He focused on the sounds, and thoughts and scents he’d placed in his safe spot until it came into view.

“Bucky, whenever you are able, I am here.” He heard Rehena’s voice in and around him again. “I see you’ve decided to join me.”

He felt her humor but he felt her tension as well. She looked at him, in the circle of opened footlockers, lids, hinges, and padlocks scattered. “Why are we here? Why wouldn’t you just say the words to know one way or another if it worked?”

“Because we are safer to experiment here, and I wanted to talk to you about your dreams. They will come. You gave me permission to lessen their severity temporarily. Do you know what was really in these boxes?”

“I remember the things they did to make these words caustic. The memories aren’t as clear as I think they should be. It’s like there’s a fog separating me from them.”

“That fog will lift, I do not know if it will be tonight or tomorrow night or in a year, but when that fog lifts, I want you to face each one of those memories with the kinder memories that are the power you gave to those words. It will not take the memories away, it will not make the pain go away entirely, but it will make those things tolerable. This is your weapon in the fight against how crushing some feelings can be. You do remember the words we associated with their words?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Very good. When you feel the press of the bad memories, combat them with the kinder ones. When you awake, if you cannot bring yourself to call on anyone else, promise me you will seek me out. You can come to my home, you can call me, and I will be there no matter the time.”

“I promise.”

“I am going to say them, in the order listed.” She pulled the red ledger out of the pocket in her apron while still holding his hand with her other hand. He kind of wished he hadn’t had that last mandazi and was certain he wouldn’t be eating the one she’d had him bring with him any time soon.

“I want you to let me say them. You do not need to stop me. I will know the difference between whether you are experiencing anxiety and fear or you are truly in peril. I will know when to stop, because we are in your mind. That is one reason we are doing it this way first.”

“You’ll know.” He said, he’d meant to ask how but didn’t have to. The sick feeling passed as she opened the book and it fell to the page, of course it fell open to that page.

“Желание, She paused, looking at him. He felt nothing and nodded, “ржaвый; Семнадцать”

The images they’d constructed fell into place with each word and he sighed.

“Рассвет; Печь; Девять” he smiled at the last one glancing aside at Steve and almost seeing through the corner of his eye, the not-six-year-old version next to him, “добросердечный; возвращение на родину”

Rehena smiled at him as she felt him accept the “safe without judgement” meaning they had given the word, she continued, “Один; грузовой вагон”

She looked at him, she said one more word, “солдат?”

He looked at her, smiled, and said “nope.” He felt Cristina sag against his back and he felt like leaping across the space, but Rehena’s hands on his kept him seated.

“So, you feel good about this?” She said with a sly smile, “Is there anything else in the rooms of your mind that we should examine? You have the ability to find out. It will be behind your fog, but you will feel it. We might as well make a clean sweep if there is.”

Although the thought that more traps could be laid was something he’d considered, he’d tricked himself into forgetting, and he frowned.

“You are part soldier, you always will be. Use the skills you had and those that you were given, and search your mind. This is your time. I will sit down in your safe place while you sweep the space. Come and join me and let me know your findings.”

He sat in the sun-dappled spot, aware of Cristina’s position shift; she sat alongside him now, shoulder to shoulder. Steve had relaxed his posture and then resumed the posture befitting the duty he’d been charged with, and Rehena sat in silence, her hands warm and soft on his.

Bucky meditated on the task at hand, sweeping the area as ordered, doing recon as a soldier would, but he was also a man, nervous and bewildered at what he might discover. After a thorough sweep, he joined Rehena in his safe space, confident that the reason he couldn’t find anything was that there was nothing to find. Suspicious that she knew as much from the books that he knew she had, he looked at her, “you knew.”

“My knowing does not give you peace, only your knowledge will.”

“You are a mystery.” He smiled. “What next?”

“Next, next we take away all of this. I leave you to your mind. You will be able to remember everything because from the minute you walked through my door yesterday, you have been given tools to handle anything that your mind, your past, and your future can throw at you. Your mind is your own, clean house on it as you can, those boxes can be discarded. They are nothing.”

“Nothing.” He sighed, “A lot of trouble for nothing.”

“Their contents are free, the box is not needed. Your nightmares, though eased, will help clean up the refuse. The words, in any language are just words.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to want to test that. Out there.”

“You want me to test it, out there. I already know what will happen. I want Steve to recite the words. You’ve been working closely with me; you might not trust that the bond we have formed isn’t the only thing keeping you safe. He’s going to get you that coffee first though. Come with me Bucky. We are going to step outside and I won’t be back in here again.”

“Unless…”

“There is no unless. However, if you need me to say it, of course. Unless.”

He sighed, and leaned against Cristina as he felt things shift.

“Your safe space is always there.” Rehena said as she kissed the back of his hand and set it gently on his knee. Rehena moved away, and he was left alone with Cristina, leaning heavily on her side. His eyes drooped and he rested his head on her shoulder, and this is how they sat in silence.

It seemed like a flash, and it seemed like an eternity passed before Steve was crouched in front of him, the scent of coffee tickling Bucky’s nostrils. He glanced up, straightening only slightly, “Thank you.” He said as he took the warm mug. “You don’t have to do it. We can call T’Challa?”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m going to do it. I’d rather do that than the other thing.”

“What if you have to do both?”

“You’re kidding. You’re not kidding? Do you still doubt?”

“I didn’t get where I am today by being careful, I thought maybe now would be a good time to start. I’m just being cautious.”

“Did you really just say ‘I didn’t get where I am today’?” Steve laughed, he stood up and held a hand out to Bucky. Bucky handed him his coffee, and Steve gave him his other hand and pulled him to his feet. “You’re gonna be fine Buck.”

Bucky took his cup back, “let’s go find out.”

Bucky led Steve across the yard to the clearing they’d had lunch in the day before and sat in the chair. “I see you brought the book.”

“I figured it was a good idea. Rehena’s right, you’ll have questions unless we cover any contingency.”

“Do you know the words?”

“Since long before yesterday. I have been trying to figure out some way to render them useless, without the proper knowledge.”

“It must have seemed so absurd. The words are nothing.”

“They could have taken bunny rabbit and kitten and turned them against you and even that wouldn’t have been silly. Words are everything if here’s a meaning behind them. You know that, look at the alternate meanings you were given. Hydra took days, weeks, to torture you, to break you and make those words mean something nefarious.”

“But we only took one day to undo it?”

“Because you are a good person Buck. It took ages to break through to corrupt your goodness, even then they couldn’t remove it. All it took was a little encouragement to let that goodness flourish. That’s what you need to remember.”

“Ok, you’re such a staunch believer, let’s get this over with. I say stop – you fucking stop.”

“You won’t.” Steve smirked.

“Shut up.”

Steve stood over his friend, book in hand, and said nothing. He started tapping his toe slowly, but still said nothing. Bucky looked up at him through his lashes, “Well?”

“You told me to shut up.” Steve said with a raised brow.

“I take it back.”

Bucky wasn’t surprised that Steve didn’t hesitate.

**Steve’s POV**

Steve forced himself to assume the posture of command and to use authority to recite each word, paced properly, emphasized accurately, without a single pause in the delivery. Just like he’d seen in a video that had been sent to him at some point during the year from T’Challa.

“Желание. Ржaвый. Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. озвращение на родину. Один. грузовой вагон.”

He knew that Bucky couldn’t afford to get excited if there was no urge to comply from the first word through the tenth, he waited, and he watched his friend in anticipation. Bucky nodded and Steve finished.

“солдат?”

“No. No, no, Fucking No.” Bucky said, with every fiber of his being, “I. can. say. no. No thank you, Fuck off. NO!”

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, the book quickly tossed aside to the nearest chair, grinning at Bucky’s blatant refusal, and his **ability** _to refuse_. Bucky surged up from the chair and wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck in the tightest one-armed bear hug, and Steve held on tight to Bucky with his arms around his chest.

When Bucky finally pulled away, they were both definitely _not_ crying. “So, I guess you’re not going to make me kill you?”

“Shut up.” Bucky said again. “I’m sorry about that. I really am.”

“If you really are, you will _never_ make that request again. _Ever_.” Steve sat next to Bucky, “I didn’t want to.”

“I know. Maybe I wouldn’t have made you.”

“I’m glad we won’t have to find out.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, “me too. Thanks for having my back.”

“You’d do the same for me.” Steve said confidently, “Should we see if there’s any more mandazi?”

“I could eat.”

They found the table had been cleared, so they went inside to see the women talking and cleaning. “I hope this means you were successful.” Rehena said to them with a warm smile.

“Yes, and hungry, are there any more mandazi? Is there any more fruit?” Bucky asked.

“Yes to both, help yourself.”

“I have a question.” Bucky asked, before taking a bite of the sweet, spicy doughnut.

“I will try to provide an answer.” Rehena replied, drying a plate and handing it to Steve, “that rack over there, if you would, please.”

Bucky smiled watching Steve get put to work, “Why did you choose to mix the order of the words? Didn’t it worry you that it would mess everything up?”

“I worried more that if I started at the beginning I would lose you to anxiety. I wanted to give it the best chance, and because the words were tied to you in such a way, I wanted to untie the words and then we could put them in their proper place.” She handed another dried plate to Steve.

“That makes more sense than I expected.” Bucky mused.

“I had wondered the same thing, I almost freaked out when she started out of order.” Cristina said, drying her hands from where she’d been washing the dishes that Rehena and Steve were finishing up. “I decided to put my trust in my friend; after all, I have bothered her for many days over this already.”

“I can’t thank you both enough for what you’ve done for me. I think I could try to repay you every day for the rest of my life and would still fall short.”

“You know what I am going to say to you.” Rehena said with a scowl.

“Nonsense.” Bucky smiled, “But we will both continue to feel the way we do about it. Thank you so much.”

“You are welcome. You can start repaying me by keeping your promise to find me if your nightmares get too bad, or if you want to talk about anything.”

Bucky hugged her. “I’m starting to feel the hours we’ve spent, and I’m sure you will too. I’m going to take my leave.”

“I will see you soon Bucky. We have tea to harvest.”

“I’m going to stick around, but I’d like to talk to you before you go, if you have a minute?” Cristina said hopefully.

**Reader’s POV**

I wanted to let him go, I knew he was tired, but I still had only the lines I’d read between to figure out what he was doing next. If he was leaving, I wanted a chance to make plans to say goodbye. If he was staying, well, I just wanted to know. We went out the front door, leaving Steve helping Rehena in the kitchen.

“Thank you for your support through all of this.” He said, his features were soft and a weak smile was playing at his mouth.

“I promised didn’t I? Speaking of promises, you and me, we have a kitchen date of our own soon, don’t we?”

“Yes, and I hope many more than just one. I’m going to be addicted to mandazi now and I’m gonna need an extra hand.”

“So does this mean you talked to T’Challa?” I asked

“Yes, he’s allowed me to stay as long as I need to, and right now that’s going to be a lengthy need.” He said, putting his hand on my neck, “I mean, I am still wanted by most of the governments of the world.”

“You’re wanted here more.” I said, blushing immediately, “So it’s a good thing you’re staying.”

“Are you sure it’s a good thing?” He asked.

I pulled him to me with a hand on his neck, and I kissed him, very much the same way he’d kissed me the day before. “I’m positive. I’m going to stay over tonight to make sure she’s as ok as she says she is, I’m sure Steve will want to stick close to you as well. Let him. You’ve both expended a lot of energy. If you need anything, don’t break your promise to her.”

“The promise is to come to her if I can’t go to Steve or to you. I’ll go to Steve first and I won’t be breaking any promises, just allowing her some rest. You and me? We’re gonna have to make a cooking date soon.”

“I agree. Maybe we’ll have several and cook up a bunch of meals ahead of time to stock your new apartment. If you can’t find anything right away, I have an extra room.” And I wasn’t going to say that, but then again, why not?

“Thank you, I’ll definitely keep it in mind.” He looked up and I turned to see Steve at the door, saying ‘goodbye’ to Rehena.

He came to us, “I hear you’re staying here tonight? That’s good. Let me know if the two of you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, for everything.” Steve responded, standing there looking awkward.

“This is where we hug.” I said, to lighten the mood, and pulled Steve into a quick hug, “Thank you Steve. I’d like you to come for dinner before you leave.”

“I’d like that. We’ll coordinate after everyone gets some sleep.”

“Good plan. Take care of this one."I said, putting my arms back around him, "I think he’s going to fall asleep before you get home. That could get tricky since you walked.”

“I can manage.” Bucky said almost sullenly. I smiled, tightened my arms around his waist, and laid my head on his chest.

“I know you can. But you can also lean on your friends. Remember, ‘teamwork’.”

He kissed the top of my head and I pulled away to look at him. “Thank you for that. I’ll remember.” He said with a tired smile.

Before I knew it, I was watching them walk away. I smiled to myself as I turned to head back in to settle in at Rehena’s, because Bucky actually did kinda lean on Steve as his friend put his arm across his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longing: желание (zhelaniye)  
> Rusted: ржaвый (rzhavyy)  
> Seventeen: Семнадцать (Semnadtsat’ )  
> Daybreak: Рассвет (Rassvet)  
> Furnace: Печь (Pech’)  
> Nine: Девять (Devyat’ )  
> Benign: добросердечный (dobroserdechnyy)  
> Homecoming: возвращение на родину (vozvrashcheniye na rodinu)  
> One: Один (Odin)  
> Freight car: грузовой вагон (gruzovoy vagon)  
> Soldat: солдат


	15. Chapter 15

**Steve’s POV**

He was too happy, too relieved, to be tired. He wanted to celebrate, but even that was something he wasn’t used to doing these days, and the person he wanted to celebrate with was practically dead on his feet. He recalled less pleasant moments helping Bucky physically, including leaving the battle with Tony, and he remembered a few occasions a lifetime ago being the one being dragged back to bed. Those were silly nights when they’d had a few too many, and the less silly occasions he had been too beaten up or too sick to make it on his own.

Steve settled Bucky on his bed, “You gonna sleep in your clothes?” He asked as he tugged Bucky’s shoes off.

“Might ‘s’well.” Bucky drawled sleepily. “It’s really ok now, izzint it Steve?”

Steve smiled fondly at Bucky looking up at him through heavily lidded eyes, not drugged, or tortured, or beaten, just tired. “Yup, that part of things is A.O.K., remember, if you have any trouble, any nightmares or anything, I’m just in the other room.”

“Yeah, hopefully not. Too tired for nightmares.”

“I didn’t know it worked that way.” Steve tossed the light comforter over Bucky, “You know where I am if you need anything. ‘Night pal.”

“Night Steve.” Bucky muttered.

**Reader POV**

I know I fussed over Rehena when the boys left, but I was so grateful to her, and I was so charged – I’d slept, and I hadn’t exerted myself as much as either she or Bucky had.

“You should just go home. I have done this before, you are smothering me.” She said, but her tone was good-natured.

“Yeah, I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone. I didn’t just promise those two, I promised King T’Challa as well, and you know he knows what you’ve put yourself through. You also know how he’d feel if I left you alone.”

“That one.” She dismissed my comment and T’Challa as only she could. “He has been a thorn in my side since the day he was born.”

“The two of you are the same age, you can’t say that.”

“I can say anything I want. If I would say it to him, I can say it to you.”

“Why didn’t you two ever hook up?” I asked as I carried a fresh cup of tea, following her to her bedroom.

“We are better off as friends.” She said simply. I looked for a sign of remorse but found none.

“I suppose that makes sense.” I said, setting her tea on the bedside table.

“Besides, why do I need to have a man? What is it about everyone that makes them see two single people of the opposite sex and decide that they cannot be happy if they are not together?”

“It’s beaten into us from the cradle. ‘oh when your Jimmy grows up maybe he’ll marry my Jenny’.” I grimaced.

“Can you imagine the beautiful babies they will make?” Rehena mimicked, sticking out her tongue, “These babies are going to have babies? Do you not think that is a little disgusting?”

We both laughed, “Yes. It is disgusting. I’m sorry I asked. I guess my mind is just on – well – someone of the opposite sex.”

“Yes, I know, but you need to give him time. He has to come to terms with the things that he has gone through.” She put her hand on my wrist, “I am not saying to avoid him, I am just advising you to take it slowly. I saw the two of you.”

“You’re tired, you’re delirious. Go to sleep, we can talk more about it in the morning.” I said, turning toward the door of her room hiding a smile. I knew what she was saying and I was going to _try_ to heed her advice, because it was what he needed.

“Good night. Do not let me find you on the sofa when there is a perfectly good guest room.”

“Ok, I’m going. Good night darling.” I said, leaning briefly on the doorjamb. “Come find me if you need anything else. You’ve had a long couple of days.”

“Enjoy the sunset for me while I am dreaming.” She said to my back as I pulled her door closed.

I did step back outside to watch the sunset and to think about the afternoon. At first I was so self-conscious about inserting myself into the situation, I had been willing to take the spot next to Steve on the sofa, in fact, I’d expected him to be the rock, I hadn’t expected Bucky to pull me into things.

As I thought, I worried. Did Steve think I was trying to drive a wedge between him and Bucky? He’d been quiet the whole time, I’d assumed he was taking his promise to guard the situation seriously, but now that my mind had time to think and nothing constructive to think about, I couldn’t turn it off. I went inside for my phone, calling as I retraced my steps back outside. When Steve picked up, I started second-guessing myself again.

“Hey Steve, I just wanted to make sure you both got back alright.” It wasn’t a total lie. It wasn’t the whole truth either.

“We did, Buck’s fast asleep, but I can’t.”

“I understand. I’ve been standing here in the yard watching the sunset.”

“I’ve been watching from the balcony.” He said. “I can’t find the energy to paint it, but it would be a nice piece.”

“It would, I’m sure. Steve, I should be up front with you, that wasn’t the whole reason for my call.”

“Yeah?” his voice was low.

“I’m sorry if I got in the middle of things, I mean, if you’d rather have had his back, so to speak.”

“I’m glad you were there for him. I never would have gotten away with it. He wanted me there on guard duty.”

“You see, rationally, I knew that, but now that I don’t have a puzzle to unravel, or a project to focus on, and with the emotions of the past few days…”

“It’s easy to completely disregard rationality.” He finished when I paused too long.

“Yeah.” I sighed, “So you’re really ok with it?”

“Of course, Bucky made the choices he needed to make, and it worked. Thank you for being there for him, thank you for all of it.”

“You’re welcome. You realize I didn’t call for more ‘thank you’s, right?”

He chuckled, “Yeah. I still needed to say it.”

“Again?” I asked jokingly, “Steve, I’m happy that you’re relieved, and grateful, but I don’t want you to think of me as someone you’re indebted to. I had selfish reasons and I don’t think I can take many more ‘thank you’s. I know it’s important to you, I’m honestly just glad I could help.”

“I don’t think a desire to help someone, no matter what the draw is, is selfish. I know we’re both glad to have you in our corner.”

I had to sit down. Yeah, I wasn’t as tired as Rehena or Bucky, but I must have been more so than I’d imagined, I sat in the middle of the patio and I let tears drip down my cheeks. “Thank you.” I think every ounce of my energy and emotion went into those two words.

“Are you ok?”

“I guess I’m just overwhelmed, by what you said, by everything that happened. I like him, Steve. A lot.”

“I know. I think that’s good. I can’t stay long, I’ll have to check in with the others, It’ll be good for him to have a few friends. If some are closer than others, that can’t be bad either.”

“I’m tired right now, so I’m going to say something very embarrassing, it’s nice to have your seal of approval.”

I heard him laugh, “Why is my seal of approval worth having?”

“You’re his friend, and you’re Captain America.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you might not think so Steve, but yes you are. It’s not a title, it’s not a shield, it’s deeper, you made _him_ , and you still are _him_. In any case, it’s nice to be deemed worthy of your friend’s attentions.”

“Thank you for that.” He said, sounding wistful.

“I think I’ll let you go, I might be able to sleep now. I hope you can as well.” I said, adding, “and, you’re welcome Steve.”

**Steve’s POV**

He wasn’t really. Not Captain America. People made the assumption that he could just be that title that had been thrust upon him in a time of war and great need. He’d assumed the mantle in a mad grab for courage when he had to single-handedly fight Hydra Nazis, find (in spite of his fears to the contrary) Bucky, and rescue him (and an entire platoon of men). Of course he’d chosen to shield himself behind the big deal movie and comic book hero they’d created around him.

When he’d been smaller, thinner, he’d had an idea that he was really bigger than his bones allowed. He could do more if only… then as soon as he was as big as he’d presented himself to be; he was thrust into a world of unimagined evil. Science fiction couldn’t write his story and be less believable.

Now, who was he? He hadn’t had time since coming out of the ice to discover who he was. Men went home from war, they had difficulties making the transition, but they went home to familiar people and surroundings. He went away, farther away than he’d ever been. There was no home to go to, no familiar people to help ground him, just more war, more evil science fiction. He didn’t want that for Bucky. He’d come out of cryo and hopefully being offered a safe haven here in Wakanda would allow him to find his feet. Steve was going to be available for his friend, but was happy that he had new friends in Rehena and Cristina to help him without making him feel like he had expectations to live up to.

Which still left Steve. With his new friends scattered in the wind, his old love gone forever, and Bucky just getting back some of what he deserved, what would Steve’s next move be? He’d fight to keep all of his friends safe, but what about Steve? What did he want next?

Steve went to bed with the question sitting on the edge of his consciousness. He gave in to sleep, with the hopes of an answer making itself known in the night.

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky woke up feeling oddly hung over. A feeling he hadn’t been able to replicate, and wished the soft buzzy feeling that usually preceded this feeling had been part of the package. He sat up, and discovered his jeans still covering his legs, and his shirt hiked up under his armpit. He scratched his whiskered face and thought about the previous days.

He rose from the bed and went to the window, looking out over the mist that covered the valley. He wasn’t expected to do anything today, and that was probably good. He wanted to take it slowly before launching into what he’d be expected to do to work off T’Challa’s hospitality.

He wanted time to think about his next steps with Cristina too, and with Steve for that matter. They really should talk before he left, Bucky felt he owed him so much, and he still felt that there were expectations he just couldn’t meet. He could at least communicate that, he owed Steve that much and more.

Bucky stepped outside, running his hand over his chest under his shirt. He still had that sleepy feeling. He shouldn’t try to make these decisions right now. He curled up on the lounge chair, with his back to the wall, trying to think, but fell asleep listening to the more and more familiar nature sounds in the distance.

When he woke, what looked like hours later, Steve was standing on the balcony looking out. “Hey.” Bucky said with a gravelly voice.

Steve turned, as though he hadn’t known Bucky had been there, but Bucky knew he was probably just surprised that he was awake.

“Hey. I came to see if you were hungry, when you weren’t inside I came out to look for you. I got distracted by the view.”

“Seems like “decided not to wake you” goes in there somewhere.” Bucky smiled.

“That too. Sorry if I did.”

“No, I wasn’t really planning to go to sleep, but you didn’t wake me. Food does sound good. Do we have anything we can fix? I’d like to do that instead of being _served_ again.”

“It’s getting tedious, isn’t it?” Steve turned and leaned on the balcony, facing Bucky.

“I could think of a dozen things I’d prefer.” Bucky joined Steve at the rail, “It sure is different here. Are you sure you can’t stick around?”

“I’d rather not bring any extra danger your direction. Or any extra trouble for T’Challa. I have things I need to work out.”

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done, all you’ve given up for me. I hope it’s worth it, I hope you don’t regret it.”

“Bucky, I wouldn’t regret helping you, I’d always regret not doing so. I still regret not looking for you, I could have changed everything for you.”

“That’s bullshit.” Bucky still had that hungover feeling, but this wasn’t going anywhere, “You won’t accept that I did the things they made me do, yet I can’t get you to accept that you didn’t do this to me. You can’t own what happened to me Steve. We took a risk. We took a lot of chances, it was war.”

“That doesn’t change things…”

“What? There’s nothing to change. I need time, time to deal with things I still can’t understand. I want, no, I need you to be part of that, but I need you to give me time and space. If you take the time to work through the things you have to do, maybe that will give me time to address my own issues. I’ve got a really good support system here, as you might have noticed.”

“One a little more familiar than others?” Steve chanced a smile.

“Yeah, Rehena got inside my head pretty good.” Bucky returned.

“I meant Cristina.”

“I know. That’s another tricky avenue I’m going to have to be careful navigating. I’ve been alone for so long, I don’t know how…”

“I know…” Steve’s commiseration trailed off much the way Bucky’s thought did. “Jesus, Buck. Look what’s happened to the two of us. We’ve come all this way, and fallen back as many paces.”

“True. So, you’re coming back right? The same size, this time. That didn’t change, I see.”

“No changes there. I’ll be back. I can’t leave my pal behind.”

“You mentioned food. Let’s go see what we can scrounge up.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe? Two chapters in as many days? When the muse hits, you take it.

**Bucky’s POV**

Steve had been gone for three weeks. He had stayed three days longer than he’d initially planned and there had been small moments of deep discussion, each time bringing both men to a new level of understanding. There were as many moments, on either a run, or visiting the nearest village, that they’d get all-out silly. Teasing one another, and to Bucky’s relief, laughing with abandon.

He hadn’t experienced such mirth in so long and each time that he was brought to the point of tears was confusing to him.

Bucky eventually started working in Rehena’s garden, given nothing else to do with his time. “You are my guest” being an answer that was starting to feel more a burden than an honor. The first morning he’d shown up at Rehena’s door was a week after Steve had left.

“I need something to do. Please tell me you have a tree to trim or a well to dig. Anything, Please.” He’d pleaded, in lieu of a greeting.

“Come in. First breakfast, that is the face of a man who was mid-run and broke free.”

“You’re observant.” Bucky answered, letting his shoulders droop. “Only if you let me help. I can’t sit around and be served any more. I need to _do something._ ”

He should have been warned by the grin that crossed Rehena’s face, but he was just so relieved that she was _hearing_ what he was saying, that it didn’t cross his mind to be worried. After all, he _was_ the one to mention digging a well.

Bucky settled into cutting fruits and volunteered to sharpen Rehena’s knives after they ate. He watched as she cooked, taking notes for future mornings by himself.

“So, did you get an apartment of your own yet?” She asked over her shoulder.

“I’ve been downgraded, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s much more comfortable to me, not as many rooms, means not as many corners where something can be lurking.”

“Yes.” She said thoughtfully, “There are a lot of fowl that like to help themselves to the great indoors.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about those brave, stupid birds.”

“I know James.” Rehena smiled softly. “However, now you have another foe to watch out for.”

“Hah. Shows what you know. I’ve always wanted a pet.” He chuckled at her robust laugh. “Thanks for making me work for my breakfast, so, what gave you that Cheshire grin earlier?”

“You said you would dig a well, how about a series of trenches?”

“I’ve got the manpower, now that I’ve got two working arms.”

“Ohh… that is what is different about you.” She gasped, “I had wondered why you looked so much larger.”

“Oh, aren’t you a funny one? Yeah, just one more thing to feel indebted to T’Challa for. I see no way to repay him for everything.”

“Has he given you a bill for any of this?” Rehena asked, handing Bucky a filled plate.

“No. That’s neither here, nor there. I am using up resources, have been for over a year. I can’t be indebted to people like that. I can’t let the other shoe drop and be pulled into war or something again, and be reminded “do you remember all of the things we have done for you?”.”

“Well, if that man does pull that kind of emotional blackmail, he will have to answer to me.” Rehena led Bucky to the patio. “Do you see that wall over there? It is crumbling. Would you be willing to help me rebuild it? I have been collecting rocks for months, so many every day that I am able to be at home. If you would like, you can come scavenging for rocks with me this afternoon. I could use your muscle.”

“I like the way you think, constructive and hard work.” Bucky pulled out Rehena’s chair, “I knew I came to the right person. The only thing I want to tear apart again is something I can rebuild.”

“Have you been getting enough sleep? Have the nightmares been leaving you be?”

“For the most part. Sometimes I’ll wake up screaming, or sweating. It’s still nothing as horrible as I _had_ been having. I think I have you to thank for that.”

“I only gave you some tools. No magic will take away just segments of the demons. You kept them; you’re going to have to deal with them.”

“I know. I still feel the same about it. I’m grateful that you’ve offered. I’m also grateful for the tools. I think I’m fooling myself if I start believing that these past two weeks are representative of my entire future.”

“That includes your current feelings of contribution. You’re going to have so many more things to become involved in. Building my garden wall is simply the first step.”

“At least I have a step, thanks to you, and to so many people.”

“You are feeling very philosophical today are you not? Might I suggest some music to take home with you, perhaps it will help you clear your mind of things that do not need to be worried over.”

“If you suggest it, Rehena, I’ll gladly take it. A rock wall huh? Mud mortar?”

“It is a little like ourselves. Pieces brought together by things that bind us. Mud, water, and grasses bind stones. People we interact with, music we listen to, the food we eat, binds us, to ourselves and to one another.”

“and I’m the philosophical one?” Bucky laughed.

“I thought since you were feeling it, perhaps you would listen to what I had to say. I know you heard me, even though you choose to laugh.” Bucky enjoyed her laughter and her straightforward attitude.

“It’s been a long time, and these past weeks I’ve had numerous occasions to laugh. I feel different. I know I’m a long way from anything approaching normal. I think that’s a standard not allowed to me.”

“Oh, James. Why would you want to be normal? You, in spite of the curses you’ve suffered, have been given a gift that carries you so far beyond normal. You could practically soar, the things you’re going to accomplish.”

“Do you see the future too, Rehena?”

“No, I do not. I see potential. I recognize quality and potential in you.”

“I have great potential to finish this large plate of breakfast, and excavate even larger rocks. That’s as far into the future as I can see right now.”

“Oh, James.” Rehena chuckled. “You have great comedic potential as well.”

“Maybe not so much.” Bucky said, still not erasing the smile from his lips. “So from my trench-digging days, I know the trench is for the wall, I also know it’s a bitch. Do you think we’ll get both started today?”

“The rocks and the trench, yes. Building the wall will take many days. I hope you are up for the commitment.”

“I’m not going anywhere, ma’am.”

“You had best not start that with me.” Rehena smiled, a little blush coloring her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, military; son of military; Ma raised me right. Blame all three.” Bucky smiled warmly. “I mean nothing but respect. You have all of mine.”

“You are going to have to wash the dishes for that.” Rehena said offhandedly. “You, and your military ‘ma’am’ nonsense.”

“I can do that. I honestly came by just to be put to work. Nobody else wants anything I could do for them. I’ll clean, I’ll build walls. I can’t just sit alone with my thoughts.”

“I will teach you some songs from my childhood to fill the quiet while we scavenge and dig. Do not worry about the dishes.”

“You’re sure? I won’t melt from a little soap and water. I hear the arm will hold up even better than the last one. Third time’s the charm, right?”

“Let us hope. Dishes can wait for later. If you still feel so inclined after digging through the back of my yard, you will be welcome to them.” Rehena responded.

“Sounds fair.” Bucky said around a rather large, borderline rude mouthful of breakfast. After he’d finished the bite, he apologized.

“Oh, you think you have offended me? I have tales I could tell of our king and my brothers. You cannot “gross me out” as it were.”

“I’m glad, but I may have just shamed my Ma.” Bucky grinned, and blushed.

“If she wanted a lively boy with a wicked grin, she should be proud.” Rehena said with meaning. She took Bucky’s plate, “Now do me a favor, go to that shed, and gather the tools we are going to need. When you are through with that, please come inside to get the water.”

Bucky thought, as he walked to the shed, that he should have come here first. Maybe she was humoring him and finding work, but at least she was doing that. “You’re my guest” was tiresome, it gave him too much time to think, and it wasn’t exhausting enough to chase the nightmares away. He had a feeling Rehena would humor the hell out of him, and work him ragged in the process, which was just what he needed.

For the next two weeks, she did exactly that. Rehena worked alongside Bucky when she was home, when she had her job to go to, she left Bucky to continue the task. Once the wall was completed, she showed him the process of harvesting different vegetables and fruits and put him to work rotating her gardens.

Bucky’s days started with an early run, that led to Rehena’s home; breakfast with her, which sometimes he’d cook, sometimes the two would work together. Bucky worked on each of the garden tasks; with a break for a cold lunch, which Rehena would leave for Bucky if she was at work, or would have him retrieve from the house for them if she was at home. Some evenings, Bucky would call Cristina for a few minutes, to check in, or to ask her for a date on Fridays.

Friday evenings were a mixed bag of entertainment, from nights in the village, to nights inside Cristina’s apartment watching movies, cooking dinner together or simply sitting together, talking or not. Bucky looked forward to Friday evenings for the company, and for rewards from a hard workweek.

The first weekend Bucky had to himself, he’d dreaded it before it began. He was unsure what would happen if he had nothing to do. The week was so busy, that his nights were nearly peaceful, only occasionally interrupted by a lingering feeling from a forgotten nightmare. Rehena had noticed his reluctance to go on Friday afternoon.

“You have a date, get out of here.” She tried to shoo him away. “You have worked very hard, you deserve a nice evening. Are you nervous?”

“No, not about that. Are you sure you don’t want me to come by tomorrow? I never did get those knives honed like I promised.”

“You are not fretting over an uncompleted task, and you are not concerned about your date, then what has you lingering?”

“The weekend. Two days of nothing.” Bucky said blankly.

“Nonsense. Two days of alternate experiences. How much of our country have you seen? I can give you a list of things you should find and experience if filling your days is what you seek.”

Bucky scrubbed his new hand over the back of his neck, the vibranium was cool and smooth on his skin. “Active things?”

“Yes, and reading materials so that you are familiar with the plants you are going to be working with next week. Take the music I gave you as well, to fill your ears because even though you are going to be active, there is extra time in the activities for your mind to trick you with nonsense.” Rehena jotted down a list and a map, Bucky admired her quick strokes, her precise handwriting.

“Thank you so much.” Bucky gushed before he could check himself, “I truly do hope I haven’t been burdening you this week.”

“Those words had better never again cross your lips to me. You have been a gift. I am happy that I can help you. Perhaps in time, you’ll have a little garden house like mine and will know what to do with it.”

“It could keep me busy.” Bucky considered with a smile. “I’m a city boy, but this has been one of my better experiences.”

“Then I am **not** working you hard enough.” Rehena laughed.

The weekends that followed were spent following some map either from Rehena or from Cristina and he found himself exploring rocks and caves, bigger and more precariously positioned than the little outcropping where he and Steve had sat out the storm; or deep rainforests that offered little in the way of a path.

It was his second weekend, that Bucky asked to borrow Cristina’s camera and added it to the things he packed, wishing to capture the beauty, but having less artistic aptitude than Steve did. He resolved to overcome that particular comparison in the near future, but the camera was an instant solution to his desire to record beauty.

**Reader’s POV**

Give him space. I knew this, Rehena had reminded me, and the kicker was that he was pretty much taking it without any attempt on my part to _give it_. Since I couldn’t feel good about myself if I entertained complaints over Bucky finding his own way, I found new projects at work to engage my mind somewhat. However, with a year of constant thinking, working and mental activity, it was nothing like before. I worked average length workdays now, and had long evenings to myself. Over a week passed before I heard from Bucky.

I was unused to so much distance, and I had to adjust from daily ‘contact’ to nothing. I took my concerns to my therapist. No, Rehena does not get the ongoing burden of being my friend and my therapist. I was encouraged to revisit the things that I had used to fill my time with before I discovered James Barnes. Before I had nightmares about the things I’d read in those books.

I thought about it, and in addition to reading, there was running and photography. I hadn’t taken many photos recently. My wall was missing some of Wakanda’s architecture and nature. I ventured out in the evenings, deliberately missing the apartment building where Bucky and Steve had been put up, and intentionally avoiding the paths I’d shown Bucky for running. I wasn’t avoiding _him,_ I was avoiding the possibility that I would appear to be stalking him.

The first night that he called, I was surprised, and I had to contain my excitement. I hadn’t been a giddy schoolgirl when I’d seen him last, the last thing I wanted to do was offer that impression now.

“Hi” I said as I answered, innocuous enough, right?

“Hello,” was that a laugh? I think he might have been as nervous as I was, “I was calling to see if you had plans for Friday after work.”

“I don’t have anything planned that can’t wait. What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, maybe we could concoct something between the two of us? Dinner out? Maybe we can try one of those clubs you’d mentioned.”

“I’d like that. How have you been?”

“I finally found somebody who wasn’t averse to keeping me busy. I’ve been working in Rehena’s garden the past few days. I’m no stone mason, but I’m learning a trick or two.”

“You’ll always learn something if you pay attention around that one.” I laughed, “You’ll have to tell me more about it on Friday.”

“Great, so it’s a date?”

“It is a date.”

“First one of those I’ve set up in decades, I hope it wasn’t too flat.”

“You did just fine.” I couldn’t help but smile. “So, I hear Steve went on his way. How are you handling that?”

“I’m ok with it. I think he and I are on the right path. He’ll come back when he feels it’s safe, I have his number and I plan to keep in touch. I’m not sure how it’s all going to work out, but we’re both willing to give the thing some breathing room.”

“Have you found a place?”

“I was given a place, and to be honest, I’m a little exhausted with being a guest, I honestly volunteered to do anything. Which is why I’ve started working with Rehena, at least I’m contributing something, somewhere.”

“Well, I can guarantee you that my friend will teach you many lessons and you’ll come away from her home skilled in a variety of jobs.

“I look forward to it. How have you been? I’m sorry I didn’t reach out before now.”

“You’re doing fine; don’t apologize for trying to get your bearings. I’ve been adjusting. I used to have so much more to occupy my time; I’m learning how to entertain myself again.”

“So we’re both doing the same thing.”

“I guess we are,” I laughed, “have you learned any new recipes?”

“I learned a new breakfast from Rehena. Not exactly a recipe, it was more of a process. I could probably replicate it decently.”

“I look forward to trying it out one day. We are still going to attempt some cooking projects in the future, aren’t we?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” He said over a yawn, “I’m so sorry.”

“Rehena has been keeping you _very busy_.” I laughed. “I’ll let you go. Have a good night Bucky.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you Friday. Can I meet you at your office? I’m going to try to sneak away from Rehena early that day, I’ll be cleaned up and ready to go.”

“Sure, is four-thirty ok?”

“That sounds good to me. I’ll see you there. You have a good night too, Cristina” I think I heard the hint of another yawn at the end of my name. I smiled fondly, thinking about him exhausted from work and trying not to yawn through our conversation.

My week was looking up. I took a long lunch the next day so that I could buy a new dress for Friday. It was yet another way to fill the day with things that weren’t dark Russian Hydra images from my year of research.

When I saw Bucky on Friday afternoon, he was a refreshing reminder of why I had allowed myself to become obsessed. He was sharply dressed in a nice pair of fitted jeans and a crisp white Henley. He hugged me immediately, two strong arms around me for the first time.

“Look at you.” I couldn’t help but exclaim, “I knew they were working on this, but I didn’t expect it already.”

I couldn’t stop myself from touching the arm, firm under the cotton of his sleeve.

“Hi” He grinned, “Yeah, it was ready the day after Steve left. He was such a mother hen about leaving me ‘unarmed’.”

“He didn’t say that?” I asked, shocked.

“He did. It was a joke from a few days before he left, but I know it was something bugging him. I should message him about it. You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” I know I blushed, maybe it wasn’t noticeable, I’d already felt color flooding my face when I saw him.

“Did you decide which place to try tonight? I hope you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me tonight, I’m so hungry after today.”

“You should be able to handle yourself, you have both hands now.” I teased. “Come on, I know the perfect place.”

 **Steve’s POV** \- Bolivia

Steve met up with Natasha at a local cafe. He wasn’t exactly surprised she’d managed to find him, but he was duly impressed. Since leaving Wakanda, he’d met up with Sam briefly, giving him the rundown on what had happened with Bucky in Wakanda, however, he was hesitant to be as forthcoming with Natasha.

“What aren’t you telling me Steve?” she asked, as though she heard his thoughts.

That’s right, terrible liar. Steve remembered. Well, there were worse things to be. “I’m not sure what you mean.” He knew it sounded weak, but it was buying him a few extra minutes to figure out how much truth to tell.

“That’s a bunch of bullshit if I ever heard it.”

“You’re killing me Nat.” Steve went for humor, dry enough, it sometimes worked, and was buying him yet more time. “I never got to thank you for what you did in Leipzig.”

“Buy my dinner, that’ll be thanks enough.”

“You know it’s not.” He argued.

“When are you going to admit you were wrong?”

“I wasn’t. There were five supersoldiers. How was I to know what Zemo had up his sleeve with them? Would you rather I let him go, if he’d let them loose, what then?”

“I know. I was just busting your chops, hoping to loosen you up. Where’s Barnes? I’ve heard things.”

“He’s safe.”

“Really? He’s safe from the world or the world’s safe from him?”

“Both, actually. Unless they buried more triggers deeper than anyone can go, he’s free of that garbage, able to make some choices on his own.”

“He’s still wanted.”

“Well,” Steve half-laughed, “So are we.”

She smiled from behind her sunglasses. With the sun setting behind her, Steve could just see the shadow of a crinkle at the corner of her eyes, “I’m happy to see you, Steve.”

“It’s nice seeing you too, Nat. I almost didn’t recognize you with the hair.”

Natasha pulled a strand of blonde hair through her thumb and forefinger, “That’s kind of the point.”

“I know.” Steve laughed. “How have you been?”

“Trying to catch up with you, and the rest. Have you seen Clint?”

“A few weeks before I got the information about Bucky, I’d seen him, Scott had helped him reach out to Laura and the kids. In turn, he figured out a way for Scott to see Cassie.” It’s been a while, but I have heard from him since then. He’s making the best of it.”

“That’s not as promising as you’re trying to make it out to be. I know Clint’s ‘best’ without those kids, it’s not ideal.”

“Have you seen them? I know you’re close. Have you talked to Tony?”

“The kids? Yeah, I spent some time reassuring them that he was smart, strong, and capable. And that I’m doing what I can to bring him home. Tony, no, not since Rhodey was being examined, you?”

Steve’s nervous laugh escaped against his will, “no, sent him a package. He hasn’t reached out. To be fair, neither have I.”

“I touched base with Wanda, it was almost a fluke, maybe she’s the one who touched base with me – she’s getting more powerful.”

“I know. Scares her, scares me. She’s working on it, it’s still out of her control, or she’d have been ideal to help with Buck.”

“Tell me about it, what happened?”

“Nobody can know Nat. Not a soul. It could start something, and when I left him, he was just trying to come to terms with things. He’s practically defenseless, with just the one arm.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone and I’m certain there’s nobody here who wants anything to do with him.”

“Oh? Certain? What about that guy over there? He could be Hydra – or her.”

“Or neither.” Natasha said with a sideways smile. “You’re getting paranoid in your old age Rogers.”

“Is that what it is? I thought it was cautious, you do remember all of the things that have happened around me recently.”

Natasha sipped her drink, “I know. I was there for most of it. So are you going to tell me about Bucky or aren’t you? For the record, Steve, I wouldn’t necessarily call that man defenseless. I know what you’re driving at though”

“What have you heard, we’ll start there. I’m sorry Nat, but I have to keep him safe.”

“From me.” Nat looked disappointed.

“From others. I’m leaning hard on my paranoia for a little longer, ok?”

“Fine. There’s talk that he’s in a Wakandan prison. T’Challa had extradition granted, it makes the most sense.”

“He’s in Wakanda.” Steve agreed, recalling his ineffectiveness when it came to lying.

“Not in prison then.” She sipped the alcohol and he felt her watching him, watching for a slip, a gimmee.

“One of their scientists found a way – in conjunction with a psychologist who also has mystical abilities,” Steve paused. “What am I even saying?”

“It’s ok, remember? We know Wanda.” Nat encouraged with a smile. “Continue.”

“They worked together, along with another book. They combined the information from the two books to figure out how reach into his mind. I’ve had this shit happen to me and it still practically gives me a headache to say this. It doesn’t make sense, and I _watched them do it_.”

“Yeah, I’ve experienced it too; I do comprehend what you’re saying. So they figured out the key from the books, they used some combination of psychology and let’s just say magic?”

“Yeah, and the psychology of it all was beautiful, Nat. She took so much time, so much care to be gentle with the triggers in his mind. To give him power to fight back, power over what was done to him.”

“That sounds better than ideal.” Nat’s gaze bored into Steve’s, he could see through the tinted lenses. “But you’re here and not there with him? Why?”

“There are a lot of reasons. I did stick around an extra week, so we could talk a little; open a few doors. He’s still skittish, but not as much as when he was ready for the world to burn the ground from under his feet. I’m lucky; he wants to find out what it’s like to be friends again.”

“But he needs time.” Nat added. “You both do, you know.”

“Not only that, I couldn’t – I mean, T’Challa’s taken on a lot with just having one fugitive, especially that particular one. I couldn’t overstay my welcome, and I needed to check on everyone.”

“What about you then? Who’s checking on you?”

“I thought that’s what this was.” Steve gave Natasha a half-smile. “Or is it something else?”

“Your first instinct was right. I needed to see how you were holding up. What have you been up to?”

“Standing out as a tourist, what does it look like I’m doing?”

“Standing out is an understatement. I’m glad you took the tourist route.”

“What about you? Blonde?”

“Trophy girlfriend, this week. I was looking for this headstrong tourist. I needed to get info. Are you doing touristy things? Seeing the sights?”

“I have been. I taught myself to surf last week.”

“An actual beach bum?” Natasha pulled the glasses down over her nose to eye him speculatively.

“No, I was going for surf champ. Of course, a beach bum. Recognition would have been terrible.”

“I should have found you last week. That’s something I think the world should have been given the gift of. It sounds almost fun?”

“It was actually fun. I spent some time drawing too. Between Wakanda and here, I’ve drawn, and painted more than all of the time I’ve been out of the ice.”

“I only guessed you drew, from some of the doodles and from the framed piece on your desk.”

“You knew. You know everything.”

“Remember? I only pretend to know everything. I won’t let it slip my notice again. Anything that makes you smile to talk about must be “need-to-know”. Are you any good?”

Steve pulled out his recent sketchbook, and slid it across the table. Natasha thumbed through the sketches of ocean skyline, Wakandan rainstorms, and watercolors of surf and sunset.

“Watercolors?”

“T’Challa gave me a travel set, heard I’d enjoyed painting.”

“Heard from Barnes?”

“Yeah, he ratted me out.”

“Good. These are nice. You’re pretty good.” Nat nodded as she continued to look through the sketchbook. “I guess I’ll have to try to keep you in art supplies. You have a pack you can carry some pencils and another book in?”

“I’m pretty well prepared, but I think I could squeeze something in.”

“Food and water easy enough to come by?”

“I just have to turn on the charm if it’s not.”

“You’ll starve.” Natasha shook her head. “We can’t have that.”

“Alright Romanoff, what do you think I did before I met you?”

“You almost froze to death.” Nat nodded, passing the sketchbook back across the table smugly.

“Oh, I see.” Steve laughed. “That’s how you’re going to play this ‘relationship’.”

“Point out the facts that are untrue about what I just said.”

“I’ve missed you Nat.” Steve smiled, blushing bright red. “You didn’t answer me beyond this past week.”

“I’ve been keeping my head down; I had an urge to try to find you. I knew you’d be collecting the rest of them like chicks, and would know where everyone was. I don’t want to know, I just want an update on everyone. So this Scott guy, he’s looking out for my friends too huh? I guess I’ll have to give him a pass, and apologize for the hit he took when I see him.”

“He’s a good guy, yeah. Maybe a little rough, but we’ve all had our scrapes.”

“Says the alleyway brawler. What? 90 pounds soaking wet, getting into “scrapes”?”

“A lifetime ago.”

“And yet, not so long, in the grand scheme of things. You’re fitting in ok though, now that you’ve figured out how to buy clothes closer to your age range. I have an idea, since you're being a tourist. Let’s go to the National Museum of Art. I’m buying.”

“A _Date_?”

“No way. Just a lazy afternoon.”

“Oh, well,” Steve said with mock relief, “Haven’t had one of _those_ in a long time _either_.”

“Thought you just said you were bumming it on the beach a week ago?”

“I meant with a friend. It’s been _at least_ a month since I did that.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads Up guys!!
> 
> Since the last chapter add, I had a change of heart, and made a change that might or might not throw you.
> 
> Breakthrough has had a slight change… I’m struggling to write the female character as Y/N - and in the interest of not killing the story with a damaged tether to my muse, I’ve named her. The writing approach hasn’t changed - she simply has a name now, Cristina Petran.

**Reader POV**

I’d been thinking about popping by Rehena’s place one day with lunch for Bucky. Each time the idea would strike, I would push it back down, because I didn’t want to upset or shock him. Finally, after missing him, not being able to meet him on the previous Friday for our almost traditional weekly dates, I took a chance at surprising him for lunch. I decided to collect a few things, call Rehena, and ask her to let me know how his mood was, so that I didn’t create any problems. “Reh, could you maybe tell him I mentioned coming by so that it’s not too weird?”

“Of course.” She was shaking her head, I know how she is.

“I just.”

“It is ok, I would say with that one, you want to make a few extra allowances. I will mention it. You do need some more tea anyway, do you not?”

“Yes.” I sighed, “Thanks for giving me an excuse.”

I left work for my long lunch, gathered some street foods and an armload of flowers from one of the vendors, and made my appearance right about lunchtime.

“Hey.” Bucky said when he saw me step out onto the circular, earth tone patio.

“Hi. I brought lunch, if you have time for a break.”

“Rehena said you’d be by for tea. What on earth?” His eyes landed on the flowers. “Lunch huh? I’m sure I don’t have to say your timing is amazing.”

“Nah, you know a setup when you see it.” I grinned, “I just didn’t want to ‘surprise’ you the wrong way.”

“Thanks for that. I’ve had enough of those to last.” He pulled the work-gloves off and scratched his neck nervously before smiling. “The flowers? Are they some kind of delicacy?”

“Well, no. I thought you’d enjoy something unusual.”

“I like them, if you give me a few minutes and a few tries, I could probably name most of them by now.” He took the flowers and smushed his face into the blooms, “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

"If you want to, we can walk down the slope – there’s a pretty good outcropping where we can have our lunch.”

“I know just the spot. Let’s do it. Will the house be ok if we leave?”

“I secured both doors, we can lunch comfortably.”

“You’re not poking fun at me are you?”

“Nope. I was just letting you know I’d planned ahead. Was today a bad day for a visit?”

“No. God no, today’s a perfect day for a visit. Rehena had to leave and I was starting to feel a little too paranoid.” Bucky set the flowers into a bucket of water he’d had for the garden.

“You do know you’re safe here, right?”

“I know. It’s – it comes with the territory, I guess. Hey, so what’d ya bring?” Bucky took the bag from me and started walking along the path. The stone wall he'd been busily building over the past weeks was sturdy and stood to our left, a meadow sloped away from us on the right.

“Well, flowers obviously, but we’ve already covered that. I gathered a sampler of street foods I liked the smells of as I walked past. All sorts of goodies.”

“I love how you know what I like.” He smiled, turning his whole body to look at me.

“I kinda like how we seem to love the same things. It makes buying food and deciding on restaurants and dives _really easy_.”

“That it does. So, I have news.” Bucky rubbed his free hand nervously over his denim-clad thigh, “I’m supposed to go with T’Challa and his entourage to consult on some security issue. I think I’ve finally bothered him enough that he’s decided to placate me. Maybe Rehena’s been whispering in his ear. Either way, I thought... well, would you like to come along? It’s just for a couple of days. I thought maybe we could see a picture… um… A movie… or something while we’re away.”

“Do you have any idea how cute your rambling date invitations are?”

“I have an idea how incredibly rusty they must be if you’re giggling and calling it cute. Was that a yes?”

“It was a yes.”

“Can I ask a favor too?” he stopped, and turned to face me.

“You can. Short of illegal activities, the chances I’ll say ‘yes’ are pretty high. So if you want me to hack into said security or something…”

“It’s not that. I hate the thought of shopping. I don’t want to do it, but if you were to come along and help me…”

“Shopping?”

“Yeah, I need to replace a few things I’ve ruined in my latest venture as gardener and stone mason. The whole nine, clothes, and shoes. I’ve been pretty hard on the stuff I have, as you can tell.”

He gestured toward the hole in the leg of his jeans and the shoes that were definitely more the color of the earth in Rehena’s garden than they were their original black.

“I’d be happy to. I could even do the dirty work for you between now and when you… I mean we leave. I would just need your measurements and shoe-size.”

“You’d do that? You don't have to do that.”

“Sure, unless you want to be there to try stuff on, to make sure they fit – jeans especially. I could pre-shop and you could just show up in time to try on the jeans and shoes and not have to suffer the minutiae. How does that sound?”

“I didn’t want to make it a chore for you.” he turned and started walking again toward our spot.

I put my hand on his arm, “Bucky, I enjoy shopping. I’ll happily do exactly what I’ve suggested so that you don’t have to endure it, or you can come along and be tormented by my enthusiasm.”

“Ok, I really just appreciate any help. I can tag along; I should start doing things like that.”

“You know there’s the internet, but I just like the personal touch.” I said, hooking my arm through his. “We can do lunch and everything.”

“Thank you.” Bucky was sincere and looked a little uncomfortable, “I wouldn’t ask but…”

“Listen, we’re friends, right? We’ve been going out on weekly dates and can talk about pretty much anything once we get over our individual hang-ups, it’s not unheard of to feel a little overwhelmed by the thought of shopping for the equivalent of a new wardrobe. We won’t make a whole day of it, but starting with lunch seems pragmatic. We both like lunch.” I smiled. “Speaking of which.”

We found a clear spot to sit down, and he dug into the bag, pulling out still warm treats, hand-held pastries stuffed with meat and spices, vegetables on sticks. “You weren’t kidding, there’s all kinds of good stuff in here.” Bucky smiled. “I wasn’t complaining about the added idea of lunch by the way. I just – I’m still so out of my element. I was ok when I could just stop into a second-hand store but just buying these jeans and a couple of shirts kind of overwhelmed me.”

“Oh, ok. I’m honored that you think my company will help. I always like spending time with you, if you hadn’t noticed.”

He touched my hand, “Cristina, when will you stop trying so hard? That’s my job, remember?”

“Bucky.” I nervously twirled my braid around my finger, “I like you. I don’t want that to chase you away.”

“So, what? I’m a stray cat now? If you seek my affections I’ll run?” He laughed. He was doing a lot more of that these past weeks. “I wish every time we saw each other it wasn’t halfway like starting over.”

Because it was in his face, and a little bit funny after the cat comment, I tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, “I know I’ve been careful, maybe too much so. I’ve wanted to call you more often, and see you on more occasions, but I’ve been giving you the lead.”

“I thought you were just busy.” He chuckled, “I told you I’m really rusty at this.”

“I guess we both are a little rusty. Why ruin a good thing? It seems to be working.”

“Might have worked quicker if one of us had spoken up sooner.” Bucky said, “By one of us, I mean me.”

“Stop. First, it’s a modern world and I wasn’t pining away waiting for you to make a move, I was respecting your space because – face it – you’ve been through a lot. Second, call me any time means the same when you say it to me that it does when I say it to you, I just couldn’t get past that space-respect thing.”

“Ok. We’ll both work on it. I don’t need that much space, by the way. I have to fill it up with something and sometimes that’s not so easy.”

**Bucky’s POV**

Admitting how lonely ‘space’ was, he felt embarrassed. He also felt relieved. It was always difficult with so many different emotions, how they physically took over his body. Blushing, heart racing, tremors, they were all red flags, signs that he wasn’t performing at peak efficiency. Some were warm, though. The way his cheeks warmed when she brushed his hair from his face and the way it made him feel when she blushed to admit that she wanted to see and hear from him more.

He noted the slight trembling of the tips of her fingers as they touched his ear, realizing the way his fingers had shaken when he handed her one of the savory pastries was very similar. Ok, so this was normal. He caught her looking at him, a smile teased at the corner of her lips, and he tamped down the urge to roll his eyes and look away, smiling at her instead.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t, caught up in comparisons. I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you’d heard from Steve recently?”

“Heard about him. Sam, of all people, called.”

“Oh? That sounds… positive? I know you said you had a troubled start.”

“It was a rough day.” Bucky deflected, a chuckle bubbling under the surface. “I mean, we didn’t meet under the most ideal circumstances the first time, and I just continued to make an impression the second time.”

“It wasn’t you.”

“Was too. You know that. I know what you’re saying though, and appreciate it.”

“I guess people need to stop telling you that.”

“No, by all means, it’s nice to hear that it’s not front-and-center on other people’s minds. It helps put things into perspective. Yeah. I did them, terrible things, but if I want to live a life and move forward, perspective has to be the operative word.”

She covered his hand with hers, tenderly stroking his fingers. “Words you’ve been hearing recently, Rehena’s echoes while you work, that you’re not quite sold on.”

“It’ll take time. I’ve got time.” Bucky looked at Cristina, drawn to her eyes. “Thanks to you.”

“You had a small army, I was just one soldier.” She smiled tenderly, her lashes lowered, fanning across her cheeks, as she moved toward him. Bucky leaned in, taking the sweetness and spiciness of her kiss tentatively. Their shared kisses could be counted on one, maybe two hands if he thought about it, and he did, often, think about kissing her.

“Sometimes that’s all it takes, one.” He brushed Cristina’s cheek with the pad of his thumb, “Just one soldier.”

Cristina tickled the corner of his mouth with her lips before leaning back, taking another bite of her lunch, “What’d Sam have to say?”

“He asked how things were going. Told me he’d seen Steve, and had gotten the low-down on what happened here. Steve’s off checking in with everyone and doing some soul-searching while he’s at it. That’s good.”

“That’s really good. You seem to be trying to convince yourself though?”

“I’ve been alone; I’ve tried ‘fixing things’ alone, I wasn’t ever that person. I only ever wanted him to be _less alone_ and he’s more so than ever.”

“No, Bucky, he’s not. I’ve seen him interacting with T’Challa, heard about him and Sam, the rest of the bunch, really. He has all of them. He also has you. You said yourself he’s checking in on the others, which means in the between times, he’s alone, but not so much that he’s not reaching out too.”

“I didn’t think of it that way. It’s baffling to me that I’m the one in a secure place, people know where I am, and it’s ok.”

“It should be ok.”

“Not that I’m “safe” but I’m _safer_ than I’ve been, in decades. Maybe I shouldn’t let that particular seed grow though.”

“No, don’t settle on safe – you’re protected. You have options and protection, which you didn’t have prior. It’s ok to let people _help_ you.”

“Enough about me, I must be the worst date ever.” Bucky smoothed his fingers through his hair, pleased with the quieter sounds his new arm made.

“You are not. You’ve lived a lifetime not talking to people. It’s also ok to explore yourself through conversation.”

“I’m not like this all the time, I actually can listen.” Bucky smiled at her look of exasperation.

“I’ve been struggling with what to do with myself now that I don’t have your _case_ to focus on. It’s not like starting over, I still have my job, the projects I’m assigned, but they just don’t interest me.”

“What was it about my case that interested you?”

“It didn’t just interest me, Bucky. Something about _you_ consumed me, drove me to pull things apart and put them together until we figured out what would work. I don’t think I’ll ever find that passion in my work again.”

“You will.” He wasn’t convinced, he thought he was saying the right thing, but he knew the feeling. “Did that sound genuine?”

“Not exactly.” She laughed, “Nice try though.”

“I know how you feel; I don’t know what would give me that satisfaction. I need to do something big, something good. Building walls out of stone in a garden has definitely given me an outlet. The project has allowed me to accomplish something. But how many walls can I build?”

“You do know it’s just a distraction? It’s something to busy your hands and hopefully somewhat quiet your mind. It doesn’t have to be your life’s work.”

“Maybe that’s the thing? Maybe your current position is a distraction too? Maybe you’re at a point where you are going to start over?”

“Is that what this has been? A lesson for me?” He liked the slow smile that crept over her lips, the crinkles at the corners of her eyes.

“That wasn’t my intent, but it seems like you have the skills to do whatever you did to help me. Maybe you won’t ever find that particular… motivation again, but if you’re dissatisfied, you could…”

“Maybe. I thought I had everything figured out.”

“I would apologize for messing things up, but I wasn’t even conscious.” He teased. “I asked Sam about the rest, because they were all scattered to the wind because of me. He kind of gave me the same ‘they’re dealing’ answer Steve did. I’m not sure I’m so fragile that a more concrete answer would hurt me.”

“Maybe there’s not more to say. He’s being careful not to disclose their activities, and they’re probably “dealing” right now as much as anything. If anyone were to ask how you were, ‘building walls’ wouldn’t cover it, but ‘dealing’ or ‘learning to deal’ would explain more. They’re scattered due to more than _just_ because of you. It was a matter of principle and belief. What was the bigger danger? Could Zemo have unleashed those soldiers, and he answer was ‘yes’. His intent wasn’t clear, but someone needed to make sure the greatest threat was addressed. Steve and his friends saw the importance of that, because you gave them the information they _needed_. That was the only ‘ _because of you’_ that you should be concerned with.”

“Wow.” Bucky scrubbed his hand over his jaw and up through his hair, the scents of spices and coconut oil from his food lingering in the air with the motion, “I hadn’t thought of it quite like that.”

“No, because you’re still in the blame phase, accepting responsibility, even for things you aren’t responsible for.”

“I bet you wish you’d left me sleeping a little longer.”

“Nope, not even when I question what I’m doing at work, I don’t have any regrets.”

“I hope the reassurance phase doesn’t last long. I’m trying to stop needing that.”

“Honey, you’re human, that phase never, ever leaves us.” She laughed again, mesmerizing and melodious, putting her hand on his knee. He looked at her hand and she noticed him watching. He expected her to move it with an apology, but she squeezed his knee and leaned against him instead.

Bucky put his arm over her shoulder, unsure if this move was welcome, and was reassured when she covered his hand with hers and rested against his arm.

“If I’m going to be constantly requiring reassurance, will I at least stop feeling embarrassed by it?”

“Nope. I hope your emotions all become familiar to you again. Working with Rehena has helped you a lot, I’ve recognized it, I hope you can. You simply have to experience them often enough to recognize them and adjust.”

**Reader POV**

It was a bold move, kissing had already been established, we had kissed each other frequently, sometimes lingering, other times tender and quick. Touching his arm should be familiar enough to both of us too, but when I put my hand on his leg, on his knee, because the thigh seemed just _too intimate_ , I didn’t know what to expect. Would he move away? Would I reconsider and pull back even if he _didn’t_ look uncomfortable?

He looked at my hand and I was sure I saw the corner of his mouth twitch – a smirk or perhaps the teasing of a smile. I squeezed his knee, was it to affirm the initial movement or to punctuate my attempt to try to comfort him? Leaning against him was always something I seemed to crave, closeness and warmth and strength radiating through him. It wasn’t a new thing, just not yet a familiar one, I tried it, still learning about how, and when to react to my own yearning, and where my needs fit in terms of his well-being.

His acceptance of my physical presence in his space was reassuring. When he put his arm across my back I stopped worrying.

“Just recognize and adjust, sounds simple. You made it sound too simple.”

“Guilty.” I confessed to his accusation. “The process can’t be simple, I’d imagine. You know none of that has to be done alone, right?”

“I know. Does everyone who says ‘you don’t have to do it alone’ really mean ‘call me when you’re reduced to a sniveling mess’? Or are they just being polite?”

“I can speak for myself only, saying yes – I mean that. Hopefully, you’d call me before you let it get that bad. If you have Steve’s current phone, I am convinced that he meant whatever oath he swore to you, when he left, and a lifetime ago. Knowing Rehena like I do, have for several years, she would never throw that out lightly. It’s what she does as a career, so she wouldn’t ever just volunteer that pro-bono to every soul in her path. She truly cares for you, so yes she means it too. I can’t speak for Sam if he might have offered that, because I’ve never met him.”

“He did. I think he’d do it just because of what Steve means to him. I… Like I said a while ago, I’m not used to that.”

“Promise me. I’m not just saying ‘you don’t have to do it alone’, if you feel loneliness or anything is going to overwhelm you, you’ll call me?” He took a deep breath and I felt him as he attempted to withdraw his arm, I tightened my hand on his, “No matter what time it is.”

“Ok. I promise.”

“Thank you. Are you ok?” I turned slightly to look at him, “I mean we’ve cleaned up this bag of treats, and I have to get back to work soon. Is everything ok for you?”

“Yeah. I’ve got some plants to take care of. Rehena said you were coming by for tea, it’s in the kitchen on the counter. I’d hate for you to forget the reason you came over.”

“Hilarious.”

He moved away from me momentarily, then surprised me by kneeling in front of me, his legs astride mine. He took my face into his hands gently, looking at me, his eyes were as clear as the lake in the distance, and his gaze was kind, tender, and just a little heated. He kissed me, his lips warm and firm against mine, sweet and spicy on my tongue. His thumbs stroked my cheeks lightly, silky vibranium and calloused flesh on either side of my face. I slid my hands up his chest and over his neck into his hair.

When we both pulled away, I felt as pink as his cheeks were, our smiles likely mirrored each other in wistfulness and appreciation too. “I guess I’ll let you get back to work then.” He said after a long silence.

“I’d hate to be the reason Rehena didn’t have any fresh vegetables.” I agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Did we have a date?”

“We could have. I know it’s just Thursday and we’re typically a Friday night couple, but if you’d like?”

“If you’d like, I could clean up and meet you for lunch.” Bucky stood up and held his hands out for me to take the assist. I took each hand firmly in mine and pulled myself up.

“I would like that and you deserve to take a break from all of this.”

“I have one remaining pair of jeans without holes.”

“We’ll fix that this weekend. Oh, you didn’t give me the dates for the out-of-town jaunt.”

“Next Wednesday. Through the weekend if you’d like. I think I can extend it that long. I guess I should clear it with T’Challa.”

“You’re a free agent.”

“With exceptions. I’m _protected_ remember? I’m going to heed his advice, and I don’t know if he’ll want to have _protection_ on me while I’m away if he’s returning to the capitol.”

“You do realize that protection and security does not mean that you’re a prisoner. You’re protected _in Wakanda_ , not just within the capitol city.” I couldn’t bring myself to let go of his hands, “Of course, you should seek his advice if it makes you more comfortable. I’ll schedule the time off as soon as I’m back in the office, I look forward to it.”

“Be careful.” He ran his hands up my arms, and tugged me closer. “I want to see you tomorrow, so don’t go getting hurt between now and then.”

“In a world of office people and computer things, this is highly unlikely.” I tried to reassure him, our faces only inches apart.

“Ok. I’ll take that as a promise.”

“Do you still run in the mornings?”

“I do, most of the time I take my run ending up here though. Why?”

“Could you reroute your run tomorrow? I wouldn’t object to a running companion.”

I saw him smile but I didn’t see the kiss coming. I gasped with the surprise of it before gripping his biceps firmly and returning the savory kiss.

“I’ll meet you outside your place early then.” He stooped to pick up the brown bag our lunch had been in, before we started back for Rehena’s house. At the edge of the garden, where the colorful blooms waved at us from the bucket, Bucky swiped a bright tropical flower and snapped a length of its stem away, before tucking it in my hair. “The flower looks much lovelier now.”

Oh did I feel the heat searing my cheeks. What an unexpected compliment. “You’re impossible.”

“I hope the rest of your day is better than the first half. You’ll be inspired by something soon.” He smiled and waved.

“Thanks. I hope so. See you in the morning Bucky.”

**Bucky’s POV**

He watched her fumble after he tucked the flower in her hair, appreciating the flood of color to her cheeks. His smile of recognition, and something else, grew slowly. He wished her a good day because he really did want her to be happy. He was convinced that she would find whatever she felt was missing. At least he hoped so. He was grateful for her part in the things that had freed him, but now he almost felt responsible for her current identity crisis. He shouldn’t, he knew. That would be like Steve being held responsible for his. Incorrect and foolish.

She walked backward toward the house briefly, returning his wave, before turning and unlocking the house. She had to grab her tea, he remembered.

“I’ll lock the front door!” he heard her call through the kitchen window.

“Thanks Cristina. See you in the morning.” He called back, stooping to pick up another bloom and brushing it against his lips and nose.

Of all of the things anyone could have told him, that he’d find someone like her, after all that he’d been through, would have been the least believable. Happily, Bucky remembered that he he’d set up an out of town date with her in addition to the impromptu running date she’d added and his out of the ordinary proposal of a lunch date. He smiled softly to himself as he went back to unearthing the plants from the garden in order to split them out and pot them for Rehena to distribute.


	18. Chapter 18

**Steve’s POV**

"....Got pinched."

“Bucky what?” Steve had to ask Bucky to repeat the last thing he said, the connection had gotten unstable and he’d had to walk down the road to get decent service. Hey, this was still better than telegraph communication across the globe. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, we’re both fine. I’d been tasked to test some security issues and thought ‘wouldn’t it be nice to ask Cristina to come along?’ we were given the green-light by T’Challa to stay the weekend. He and his people pulled out and headed back to the capitol. On Saturday we were spotted by someone…”

Steve stopped when the phone went silent, clutching his phone with a tenuous control over the strength of his grip.  “Are you still there?”

“Yeah…” He heard faintly, “Your service or mine? Mine seems fine.”

“Mine. Who spotted you? Did anyone get hurt?”

“I hope you’re just asking about Cristina and me, and not asking if I did something un-captain-like.”

“I was asking about the two of you.” Steve shook his head, exasperated.

“Some bounty hunter trash thought they could circumvent T’Challa’s security and protection. We were at a movie and my paranoia kicked into overdrive. I felt someone watching, I knew the tactic. I had to let Cristina know, I leaned in and whispered to her that we were being watched, not to do anything abrupt or out of the ordinary. She was great, actually. She kissed me as if I was asking for it, ate a bit more popcorn, and took a drink from her cup before looking at me, “what do we do?” I told her to go to the lobby, get in line for the concessions and I’d keep an eye out. If anyone was watching us, it was me they were looking for.”

“How could you be sure they wouldn’t target her?”

“She’d be safer in the lobby than a darkened theater; I didn’t discount the possibility Steve. I really like her. Do you think I’d willingly endanger her? Cristina called T’Challa while she was in line for theater candy. The place was secured within minutes.”

“This doesn’t sound quite as gut-wrenching as your broken up “got pinched” implied.” Steve took a chance with the precarious phone service and leaned against a light pole on the abandoned street. “So what else happened?”

“Well,” Steve heard hesitation, concern and an underlying humor as Bucky uttered the single word. He imagined his friend smirking at him, shaking his head.

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky was lying sprawled across his bed, holding his phone, even though he had it on speaker. He kicked his feet until the sneakers he and Cristina had bought flipped halfway across the room. “Well, the next morning we were supposed to meet for breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Cristina didn’t show up and when I realized I didn’t have my phone on me – a problem I’ve since resolved not to have again – I left the restaurant and hurried up to her room. She didn’t answer my knock. I didn’t panic yet, she might have gone down on the other elevator or by the stairs, and we could have crossed paths. I went into my room for my phone. It was ringing when I walked in. They had her Steve.”

Bucky heard the strangled sound in the otherwise silent background, and shifted his phone from his right hand to his left.

“They told me that they wanted me for her. All I had to do was show up. I agreed and went to the building they’d instructed me to report to. These guys can’t be professional bounty hunters, I just can’t imagine it, but it was clear they weren’t professional kidnappers.

“The place had potential to be secure enough, but there weren’t enough of them to cover all the weak spots. I could have gotten her out myself, but I’m not going to say I wasn’t glad when T’Challa’s people showed up.”

“Wait, did you call T’Challa?”

“No, that’s the thing. The guy they caught at the movie theater cracked, and confessed to the lure, telling a few of T’Challa’s Dora Milaje everything. They questioned him, special request of T’Challa himself. Fuck have I gotten myself into? I’m grateful, but I won’t ever repay the thousands of favors given to me.”

“So Cristina is safe?”

“Yeah, she’s safe; I’m even more fucking _protected_ than before. I’m not going to complain and say I can take care of myself, because it’s not all me. I need to make sure she’s safe. I almost did it again.”

“Did what?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“Shut her out. I want to see her and I want her protected, I have no idea how to deal with this.”

He heard a huff that resonated as laughter coming from the other end.

“You’re fucking laughing at me.”

“She’s fine, you’re fine, yes. I’m laughing at you. You’re going to have to deal with whatever added security you’ve alluded to, if you want to keep seeing Cristina and I’m proud of you Buck. Not shutting her out, calling me. Those are big advances.”

“Shit.” Bucky tossed the phone onto the bed, it landed near his head, “I didn’t ask for that.”

“No, but you get it. So you were rescued, she was rescued, and you now have extra security. Is that about the way things sum up?”

“You know how to suck the greatness out of a rescue mission, you know that? I wasn’t rescued, at least log this in your memory banks as I was _part of the rescue_.”

Bucky wasn’t sure why resisting the smirk tugging at his lips was so important, maybe Steve would _hear it_ and think he was off the hook. It was hard to keep a straight face, even in the silence of his own room, when Steve was laughing boldly on the other end of the phone.

“So what have you been doing with _yourself_ while I’ve been having my obviously, vastly amusing adventures?”

“I’ve seen to the well-being of my “chicks” as Natasha’s decided to call them, including her, Sam, well, every one of them actually.”

“Your ‘chicks’ huh? Can’t get enough of that Mother Hen, can you?”

“I learned from the best. So, Sam said he’d called you. Did the two of you play nicely together?”

“Shut up.” Bucky did laugh this time. “We can get along, sometimes. I suppose bookending watching out for your daredevil ass in consecutive centuries has been a bonding experience. He’s definitely the better man.”

“So you say.” Steve laughed along with Bucky. “He also said you had a good talk. He’s a good friend Buck. Can’t have much better in your corner.”

“You don’t have to convince me. I’m not the one who was violently attacked. Twice. Don’t tell him, but I like the fool.”

“After what happened with Cristina, are you sure you’re ok?”

“Hell no.  I’m paranoid. Again, still? I’ve got private security on me and she’s got them on her too. It’s a bitch Steve.”

“We’ve got to get you cleared so that there’s no bounty worth having.”

“Maybe I should collect the bounty myself, I need money.” Bucky rose up onto his elbows, peering around the darkened room. The moon and trees were making shadow puppets on the far wall.

“You can’t very well collect a bounty on your own head. Maybe we should split it. How do we collect it and get you out to enjoy it?” Steve played along, making Bucky toss his head back and was that a giggle? “I made you laugh.”

“Shut up Steven.” Bucky pretended to be stern. “So, when you say we… you mean we’ve got to get **all of us** cleared right? Have you spoken any further to T’Challa about his work revising The Accords?”

“Not since I left, has he discussed it with you?”

“No, I tend to talk to him about other things. I definitely spend more time with Rehena and Cristina. Before this past week, I’ve visited him twice outside of asking for work or him asking me to come along on that security trip. Both times, it was clear the last thing he wanted to do was talk about work of any kind. There were a few of his friends around and everyone just watched and talked sports and other recreational things. I think that is a topic he’s not ready or willing to discuss with me personally.”

“Well, I’ll keep you in the loop. Speaking of loops, I’m working on a loophole. I might be able to get the gang back home.”

“Anything you can tell me?”

“Yeah, the accords weren’t ever actually ratified, so we’re being chased for breaking laws that don’t exist.”

“Which just leaves me.”

“Yeah, that’ll be next Buck. Trust me.”

“You gotta get your friends clear first, that’s the most important thing. I’m safe here. If you’re successful, you’ll be what? Captain America again?”

“No.”

Bucky thought he heard finality, a little mourning, and a little relief in the single syllable.

“Traveling? Coming to visit your ol’ pal?”

“ _That_ is within the realm of possibility.”

Bucky smirked, relief that he wanted Steve to visit and the possibility that there could be one mingled to make him feel warm. “Hey Steve? Make it happen, k?”

“I should arrange a visit, seems you’re no good at gathering intel for your ‘ol’pal’ an’ I gotta do it myself.”

“You caught me.” Bucky chuckled. “I’m gonna let you go. Keep your nose clean, y’hear?”

“Doin the best I can Buck.”

“Do better.” Bucky’s tone was tender. “Just get here in one piece ya idiot.”

Bucky thought about the call after it ended. The weeks had turned to months and he wanted to spend some time with Steve again. He wanted something for himself that was ancient and familiar, as opposed to the nagging dread that had kept him separated from the only tie to his life. Clearly this was what could be called ‘growth’. He looked at the time, late. Almost one in the morning. He dialed anyway.

“Hello?” there was a pang of guilt when Bucky heard Cristina’s sleep thickened voice.

“Hi, I’m sorry I woke you. Selfish.”

“Hi Bucky.” He heard rustling, he imagined she sat up in her bed. “Is everything ok?”

“I was checking in on you.”

“Don’t you try to apologize again.” She said sternly, then yawned.

“I’m not – I just – I just got off the phone with Steve. I was telling him about the weekend and I needed to hear your voice.”

“I’m fine. How’s Steve?”

“I think he’s tired. Tired of running.”

“I had an idea, I think I can help him.”

“Can I – I mean,” Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face before reaching for a hair tie on the side table. “I’m sorry. I should wait til morning.”

“Bucky, we’ve been through this, any time is fine. I don’t care what time it is.”

“Besides, I already woke you.” Bucky said sarcastically, tugging at the hair tie absently.

“No I wasn’t about to say that. “Can you” – what?” She sounded exasperated, but amused.

“Could I come over? I – I’d like to hear your idea and talk about our phone call a little.”

“You could have shown up on my doorstep knocking, you don’t have to ask to come over.”

“It’s polite.” Bucky said, pulling his hair back and securing it at the base of his neck. “I’ll be there in a few. Thanks Cris.”

“See you in a little bit Buck.”

**Steve’s POV**

Steve pushed away from the light post and looked at the phone. Was he dreaming? Did Bucky just ask him to come and visit? The same guy who’d ducked and hid for years to avoid him?

“No. Not the same guy. He wasn’t even that guy when I first left him in Wakanda, not to mention the second time.” Steve reasoned. Bucky – this Bucky – wasn’t the man he knew once, but he wasn’t the running scared version, and that was a good thing. He supposed he wasn’t the man “Bucky” knew either.

Steve pondered as he walked back to his dingy room. They’d become friends again before he left Wakanda. A lot of the old camaraderie was there; even the ability to be quiet in each other’s space was still – or again – part of their being. He peeled off his shirt and dragged the thin, towel under the faucet before washing his face and neck then running the coarse cloth over his chest and under his arms. A shower. That would be so nice.

This was the worst place he’d found to stay in yet, but it had a stunning view. Steve wandered from the basin in the room to his lumpy bed, and sat on the edge looking out the narrow, long window at said view. The moon was full and its brightness was doubled by its reflection on the ocean not too far from his second story vantage point.

He’d only mentioned the loophole to Bucky. He didn’t want to get anyone else’s hopes up. Not that his teammates weren’t intelligent enough to have the same consideration, but maybe he’d be able to take care of it before they did, before they were too tired of running to care.

Steve’s focus remained on the trajectory of the moon so he didn’t have to see the dingy yellow and peeling walls of his room, or the rotting wood planks on the floor. He had been here for two weeks, the view soothing the ache.

When he first stepped into the room at the top of the two weeks, it was almost familiar, almost like Brooklyn or Bucky’s apartment in Romania, but it wasn’t. It was smaller, dingier, and so much less welcoming. He’d crossed the room immediately, captivated by the view and had even managed to pull out his travel art supplies and paint a few miniatures, sunrise, sunset, rain splashing on the ocean, the moon. That one was from memory. He wouldn’t have the lights on in this hellhole when it would dim his view.

As the moon traced across the sky and the deep velvet night lightened to a soft satin morning, Steve tugged his phone from his pocket and dialed T’Challa’s private number.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Steve could see the curl of the man’s lip and the gleaming friendly smile in his mind’s eye.

“I’m calling to ask your permission to come visit. I need to speak with you about some things and I’d like to see Bucky.”

“Well, I do not know how your friend feels about a visit, but I have told you, you are welcome any time.”

“Thanks, any time good for you then?” Steve noticed he was sitting at attention. He also noticed he was actually getting cell reception in this mystery spot they called a room.

“My calendar is open for you. Do you need assistance getting here? I can send someone.”

“You’d make my life a thousand times easier, yes.” Steve stowed a sigh of relief, still very much in a role of deference, even with his relaxed response.

The arrangements were made and Steve pulled a clean shirt from his bag, stuffing the dirty one in the end pocket with the previous day’s laundry and left the dingy building without a glance back.

He walked along the shore for over an hour, his ‘extraction’ not scheduled for a few more after that, watching locals hauling in fishing boats and nets and the haul of the day. He’d attended a fish-fry the night before, before Bucky’s call and panicked “got pinched”. He would have to remember to cuff his friend for being all lazy and cozy in his room while instilling panic in him across the sea.

Steve waved at the men as they dragged their buckets in, and then ran to grab one of the heavier ones an older fisherman was struggling not to topple. He spoke with the man in broken Greek, putting an occasional English word in accidentally when an alternative was lost to him. The man laughed with Steve when he apologized. “Only two weeks, you’d think I’d know more,” he said in mostly perfect Greek.

The people and the view were the things that had kept him here; even the proprietor of the building he’d stayed in was wonderful to him.

The man talked Steve into joining him and his family for a meal, one of the day’s catch was cleaned swiftly and seasoned, seared on a skillet while some homemade bread steamed as it was sliced into. The man’s elderly wife plied Steve with homemade yoghurt and as soon as the fish was done, she served him bread, fish, and fruit from the tree outside her window. Steve waited for her to sit; she waited for him to eat. It wasn’t a long standoff; he knew the face of determination, and when to back down in its wake.

There were teen girls and boys working outside with their parents, presumably children of the man and wife, and little kids laughed, running across the sand. Steve continued to practice his Greek, speaking to the couple, thanking them for the meal, asking about the children. Grandchildren, he learned.

He told them it was his last day here; he was going to go down the beach and try to paint one last picture before he had to go. He let them know that he’d loved his stay in the village because of people like them and that he really appreciated their friendly sendoff. Before Steve left, he thanked them profusely for their hospitality. He left them with one of his watercolors as thanks.

The transport arrived and his phone vibrated in his pocket as Steve was putting some ink lines on the watercolor picture that had been drying in the sun. He capped his pen, replacing his phone in his pocket with the pen, holding the sketchbook open to let the ink continue to dry. “Yeah. Ok I’m about five minutes out. Thank you.”

Steve hefted his duffel bag over one shoulder, pocketed his phone, and then ran to the meeting point with the notebook still open in the hopefully-not-futile attempt to keep the ink from smudging.

**Reader’s POV**

I wasn’t sure what to think, he knew he could call or come by any time. I didn’t realize he’d needed reassurance. “It’s polite.” Sure Bucky. I waited in the kitchen, making coffee and warming some muffins in the oven. When he knocked, I called out to him “Come in.”

“Jesus Cristina! Don’t leave your door unlocked.” He said, swiftly locking the deadbolt and lock behind himself.

“It was five minutes.” I exaggerated.

“How long did it take for them to grab you last time?”

“That was different.” I still shuddered. Being in their control, their bulk binding me, keeping me motionless was a hard sensation to escape.

“It wasn’t though.”

“I can’t carry on for the rest of my life expecting someone to grab me while I’m distracted; I’m not the kind of person who can just not _be_ distracted. I left the door to my apartment, inside a secure building, unlocked for you. You have the pass-code to get into the building. The lock on this door is overkill.”

“So you’re telling me the security can’t be hacked.” He stood with his arms crossed facing off with me. “Not by anyone.”

“I'm not saying that. Ok stop. You feel responsible for what happened, I get that - but stop. I won’t do it again, I’ll just give you a key. I didn’t realize I was going to upset you. I take it back, the lock’s not overkill and I’ll always use it.”

He stepped over the threshold from the entrance to the kitchen, put a hand on my cheek and another around my waist, “I’d hate to have something worse happen to you.”

I looked at his stormy gray eyes and bit my lip before smiling, “I’m sorry I scared you. Annoyed you. Whatever that was. Coffee?”

“I’ll take a cup.” His thumb lingered at my bottom lip before tickling my cheek. He brushed my lips with his abruptly. I put my hands under his and up his back, loosening the hair he had pulled neatly back before returning his kisses, not so abruptly.

“Black as night?” I asked, “there’s a muffin in the oven if that influences your coffee preference.”

“It’s early, I’ll live a little. You have cream?” he stepped back, leaving one hand on my waist, taking the mug I handed him with his free hand.

“I do. It’s in the fridge help yourself. Are you ok? You said you wanted to talk about your call with Steve. Is everything ok?”

“He sounds tired. Not it’s midnight and your best friend called you kind of tired, but just exhausted. Done.”

“So what particular part of the conversation will help me help him?”

“He said something about a loophole. Regarding ‘The Accords’.”

“You mean the part where they were never ratified? That’s what I wanted to look into.”

“You mean you…” Bucky stopped to consider, “Ok, so you’ve thought about this.”

“Of course I have. You know me. I get kidnapped to lure you in, I need something else to go to sleep to, that’s when my brain finally gives me something to focus on. Not soft sleepy thoughts, active ones that make me do puzzles instead of sleeping.” I saw him almost apologize again, “Don’t even think about it – I will always answer your call and if I find out later that you avoided calling me I’ll be very upset. Come on, let’s go sit by the window, we can watch the sun rise while we talk.”

“That’s a few hours out still.” He said, sipping his coffee.

“Yeah, this isn’t a twenty minute discussion, I think you’ll have ideas and it’s going to turn into a brainstorming session.”

“You want me to have ideas.” He called me out. True I did.

“You want to see the sunrise from my apartment.” I teased. “My view is amazing.”

“If we’re going to be here for hours, you don’t mind?” He kicked his shoes off and scooted them next to mine.

“I want you to be as comfortable as you need to be.”

“I feel like it’s my duty to take my shoes off in here, so much white.”

“Off white – and thank you. I know those shoes are clean though, they’re like two hours old.”

“A few days.” He corrected, curling up in what he’d determined as ‘his’ chair since the first time in my apartment all those weeks ago. I have to admit, I think of it as ‘his chair’ too.

When it’s vacant, I imagine him sitting just like he was, and always wound up. Feet tucked under him, in a position I’d rarely seen guys sitting. They usually prefer the ‘manspread’ position, which is fine, but Bucky’s posture – which I only see from Bucky here, in my apartment, in that chair – is much more feline.

There was a pleasant silence while we both nursed our coffees and nibbled our muffins. He looked out the window into the night sky for the longest time before I heard him say, “I haven’t paid as much attention as I should to the stars, they appear so close that you could touch them.”

“If you’d prefer, we could go to the roof, I’ve laid out up there before for hours, stargazing.” I waited for another security lecture, and was pleasantly surprised when none came.

Instead, his lips curved, he licked them quickly before looking away from the window in my direction. “I’d like that. You know, that’s what I was doing on the morning we met. I haven’t taken the time to do it again, since. I think just stargazing sounds very peaceful.”

“Did you bring a jacket? If not I’ve got one you can use.”

“I didn’t. I should be fine.”

“Time to humor me again.” I got up from my seat and gathered two fleece jackets and as many blankets. I tossed one jacket at him, “It gets chilly.”

Bucky tugged the sleeves over his arms and adjusted the jacket before holding the door to my apartment open. He allowed me to lead him to the roof, instead of leading and securing the area for himself. I have to give him credit. I know it was buzzing through him after what had happened over the weekend. I led him to the teak benches that lined the edge of the roof. “We can use these,” I watched as Bucky sprawled over the one, I stood next to him, at his shoulder, “up.” When he lifted his head I put the blanket beneath him as a pillow.

“Double duty.” He smiled, clasping my wrist in his hand. “Thanks again for humoring me Cris.”

“I’m not humoring you. You’re helping me.” I stuck my blanket on the bench adjacent to his, so our heads would be together while we compared constellations and possibilities. I knelt next to him and kissed him briefly before adjusting my jacket, and popping my hood up. I got situated on my own bench listening to the teak croak and groan. “So. Did Steve give you anything?”

“No. Of course not – he’s under the impression he needs to “deal with it”. He just said that he was looking into a loophole due to the Accords not being ratified, just like I told you. How far have you gotten in this puzzle?”

“Not far. I do think we, well they, need someone that the “powers” will listen to – so I think talking to T’Challa to see if he can talk to these people, might be the best first move. The least we can do is see if he has any influence. The good news is that they’re nowhere near implementing the revised Accords. T’Challa is picking them apart from the first syllable. You know politics isn’t my strength.”

He laughed, “me neither.”

**Bucky’s POV**

He could just lie there in the warm fleece with a soft blanket under his head, listening to her talk and find that sleep that had eluded him, but she was energetic enough in her desire to help his friend that he was reeled in. He scoured the sky to find a familiar constellation as he considered what she was saying.

“well, I hope you have more than that? It seems like a done deal the way you’ve laid it out.”

He angled his head so he could see her reaction, it was worth the upside-down and sideways kink of his neck to see her flail her hands and sputter.

“That’s the outline you lummox.” She said, her voice laced with humor. “I don’t know _what_ to say to convince T’Challa. You do realize any information I have is through Rehena. I’m not his side-man or anything.”

“Oh. Ok.” He chuckled, before sucking in a breath “Cris.”

“Yeah Buck?”

“Look.” Bucky pointed above them.

“Oh, yeah.” She said on a sigh, “Meteor shower. The Orionids. I forgot.”

“Good luck or omen?”

“Oh, science of course. Are you superstitious Bucky?”

He laughed, pushing dark thoughts aside, rolling them into little pieces of sarcasm. “I should be. You should be too. I wonder if I’m in the clear yet. If you get seven years for breaking a mirror, how long do you think you get for losing your arm – twice?”

“Seventy. On ice. You’re in the clear.” She said, Bucky could hear the warring humor and frustration in her tone.

“Oh, ok then, they’re definitely good luck.”

“Or science.” She said again, a stubborn period placed at the end of her proclamation.

“I’ve had better run with luck and magic.”

“Look at this.” She reached for his arm that was still suspended in the air, tracing constellations. “This is science. Some of the other stuff, a **lot** of the other stuff, was just terrible. This? You, being here now? And the meteor shower? All evidences of _good_ science.”

“You’re a scientist, you can like and defend it.” He teased. “I’m also grateful for the role it played in fixing me, and for you. Definitely grateful for you.”

He turned onto his side and she did the same so they could look at each other. “I saw the ugliness of the science they used on you, I know why you have issues with it.”

“I know. You shouldn’t have had to see and unravel their research. It’s hideous.”

“But it got us to this point. On to this new project, it’s not as scientific, but I do need an intelligent proposal to get into T’Challa’s council.”

He smiled at her refusal to get emotional over the research she’d done. It was one more thing he found beautiful about her. She had the information, but had put it in its place to move ahead. Something he hoped to continue to learn from her. “Ok, You’re right. I wish I’d have asked Steve about it. If we had his ideas to throw around it would make things a sight easier. You don’t think “Hey they’re being illegally pursued because these laws don’t officially exist” would be enough?”

“It could be, but it might sound emotional and dramatic.”

Bucky laughed and when he saw Cristina looking at him disapprovingly, he laughed harder. “I’m sorry, but you do realize that’s how I _met_ T’Challa, right? He was _very_ emotional and dramatic.”

“That was different.” He took pleasure in the fact that even though her response was no-nonsense, her voice hid laughter.

“Ok fine. I’ll be serious. You’re absolutely certain that they had to be ratified and weren’t.”

“I’m positive, the formal signing was interrupted on the introduction of the Accords, they hadn’t gotten to the details yet. I need to be _very_ diplomatic here, because the _interruption_ was King T’Chaka’s death.”

“Well, of course. I think just mentioning that they hadn’t been ratified would be enough. Nobody needs to point out why, everyone knows why.”

“It wasn’t you.”

“I know. Trust me, I know that. I feel bad that I was dragged into it though. I worry that I’m still the face of the death of his father for him, because those pictures won’t ever go away.”

“He was there for the confession of the man who did it though.”

“I know. It’s still – I am responsible for other people’s fathers. I’m still…” he stopped. This was the line of thinking that didn’t do anyone any good.

“You’re getting off topic.” She scolded, sympathetically.

“I know, I was stopping.” He sat up on the bench. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” She sat up to look at him, setting her hand on his knee.

Bucky covered her hand with his, the faint whisper the arm made with the movement barely audible over the distant sounds of wildlife. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you up.”

“I wish you weren’t sorry for that.”

“You wish I wasn’t sorry for everything.” He teased, leaning against her where the seat made an “L”

“I do. But that’s just not realistic, is it?”

“Probably not. So. What I’m hearing is you want papers, you want to take research in to put under T’Challa’s nose.”

“I guess, but what can I research? Illegal incarceration?”

“No. What we need to do is find out what Steve has in his ridiculous blond head and combine forces. I’m sorry you won’t get much credit, he’d probably barge in and tell T’Challa what’s happening, in his most charming voice.”

“I don’t want credit. I’d like your friends to be free. I’d like to get to the point where even you’re free. If I can get Steve and friends off the proverbial hook, I can get at least one of them to do legwork to work in your own case.”

“You mean Steve.”

“I mean anyone who would be willing to listen.”

“Ok, maybe Sam.” Bucky nudged her shoulder, “Sam seems like a listener.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized earnestly, “I really appreciate what you’re doing and why. I know you’re thinking that if I’m free, nobody will try to trap me again. Which will keep you safe.”

“That’s the way _you_ think. I was just thinking if you were free, it would make you happy.”

“I would be happy, there would be fewer opportunities for people to use you to get to me. That would make me very happy. I’m comfortable here, and protected. I was impressed to see your guards in place.”

“Yet you got upset about a door-lock.”

“Yes, I did. Call me jaded.”

“Do you realize we’ve gotten nowhere?” Cristina linked fingers with Bucky.

He was still getting used to the subtleties of the new arm but in this case, he wished the sensation were more realistic. He stood up and walked to her other side, sitting on the same bench as she was, and switched hands.

He gave her hand a squeeze, before brushing his thumb along her smooth skin. “I’m sorry. I’m the wrong kind of distraction. In about an hour or so we should be able to call Steve.”

“You woke him up too, maybe you should let him sleep.” She leaned against him, her soft fleece jacket added warmth where the cool air had before circulated between them.

“Ok, fine, we’ll fix breakfast, and then call him. For now, does my favorite scientist know her constellations?”

“You wound me. Of course I do.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Steve’s POV**

Steve stepped off the plane, thanking his pilot with a firm handshake and looked around. There was a car in the distance, he was exhausted, and though he knew he’d awakened T’Challa, and was probably expected to report to him straightaway, all he wanted was a shower and a nap.

He pulled out his phone and called Bucky’s number. He was most likely going to be staying with him, he was certain he wasn’t going to be put up in T’Challa’s apartments again.

“Hi Steve.” His friend’s welcome voice came across before Steve even heard a ring on the other end.

“Hey Buck. So, you’ll never guess what I’ve done.”

“No, probably not.” He heard the chuckle. “Um, what’d you do?”

“I’m in Wakanda, you think I could bunk with you?”

“Yeah, wait, you’re here now?”

“Yeah, I can explain, I think I have to meet with T’Challa first – there’s a car waiting. It’s ok if I stay?”

“Of course. I’m glad you called. Is everything OK?”

“Yes, it’s just our conversation, I need to try to get things squared away. I need to know what’s going on. I have too many people counting on me, I can’t go on painting sunsets.”

“We’ll talk later. Call me when you’re close.”

Steve ended his call with a feeling of regret in the pit of his stomach. Why did he say that? He’d been restless the entire flight, thinking about Clint and Scott not being able to be dads to their kids, Sam and Wanda both uprooting their lives for something they didn’t even understand. He’d asked them for sacrifice without telling them what they were losing in the process of trying to save the world, when instead what he’d been was a pawn. They were fodder in a game he’d been played in.

He thought about Nat making yet another sacrifice, losing her identity again, helping him, and turning fugitive yet again, and he thought about Sharon.

She was good at what she did, she did it because it was her job, yet her job was pushed aside to help him. He had no word on where she’d gone, how she’d come out of this and he’d thought about it so many times. The last time he saw her, her lips warm on his, her fingers tender on his neck, getting ready to pack her life away because of him.

“ _stop blaming yourself! Give your friend the respect of making his own decisions!_ ” Peggy echoed in his mind, his _friends_ this time, friend **s** , plural. His friends made their decisions and their choices because they understood the bigger picture.

“God love you Pegs.” He whispered as he picked up his duffel bag. He headed for the car with a last wish for a shower. He looked inside the door when it was opened for him, and saw T’Challa in the seat.

“Care to share a ride?” T’Challa asked with his warm, bright smile from his position across the expanse of the luxurious leather seat.

“I’m – oh. I’m sorry.” Steve handed his bag off to the chauffer. “Your Highness.”

“Steve, please, we’ve been over that.”

“Sorry. You’re right. T’Challa, I was thrown, I thought I’d be shuttled to your office or…”

“I thought you would prefer to get settled in, but I also thought you would not mind a friendly face.”

“Both are incredibly welcome. Thank you.”

“Do you require the use of my barber?” T’Challa’s voice was laced with humor and Steve ran fingers through long, sun-bleached hair.

“I don’t know, I haven’t spared much time to even notice. What I require, is a shower. After that I’ll figure things out.” Steve laughed. “If you don’t mind, I’ll call Bucky back and let him know I’m on my way. I’m going to stay with him.”

“By all means. I am just here for the ride.”

Steve called Bucky back quickly and informed him that his arrival would be sooner than he’d expected.

The ride was quiet, but not painfully so. Nearing the street that wound upward toward Bucky’s building, T’Challa finally spoke, “I know you have a lot you wish to talk about, just give me a call, and I will set aside some time. Will you be staying long?”

“How long would you tolerate me?” Steve didn’t want to uproot himself again too soon, but he wanted the blessing to stay.

“I think, since there has been activity from outsiders trying to get their hands on Barnes, your stay should be open-ended.”

“That’s one way to do it.” Steve frowned as he looked out the window. “He said he thought they were pretty inept. What do you think?”

“They were smart enough to get in, but I think they lost momentum in their planning once they figured out how to get here. I would not discount future attempts if there were a decent bounty on his head. There are countries whose leaders have no scruples and a large treasury.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Steve noticed Bucky at the entrance to the building. “Well, welcoming party is in place. Thank you for the hospitality and for the ride.”

The car glided to a stop and before the driver could get out, Steve spoke, “please, allow me.” He opened his own door, “If you could just pop the trunk.” Steve pushed the door closed, tugged his bag from the back and waved as he made his way up the ornately landscaped walkway to where Bucky was standing with his hands in his pockets.

“The wayward child returns.” Bucky said with a smile. “Welcome home.”

The last steps up the walkway were a breeze, the warmth of Bucky’s welcome dragging some energy to the forefront. Steve followed Bucky through the door and up to the top floor of the thoroughly modern building that just _had to_ boast some hot water _and_ indoor plumbing.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks Buck. I could always count on you to give it to me straight.”

“Come on. You look like you could use a hot bath and a strong drink.”

“I’ve been thinking really hard about a shower.”

“Ok, bathroom’s through there, you can use my room and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Buck, I can take the couch. I’ve slept on worse.”

“Don’t. I say I’ll sleep on the couch; you let me. It’s polite.” Bucky took Steve’s bag from him and carried it to the bedroom. “You think you remember your manners?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Steve smirked. “Thanks Buck this means a lot.”

“How long?”

“Open-ended invitation, T’Challa doesn’t like the idea of bounty hunters, so…”

“So you’re extra protection. Maybe the guy should pony up a bigger apartment.” Bucky teased.

“I shoulda told you that before you sold your room for cheap.” Steve laughed, standing in the doorway to Bucky’s bedroom. “You shoulda seen the room I was in last.”

“Better than this? Sorry.” Bucky pulled towels from the closet, “Fresh towels, make yourself at home. You hungry? I have leftovers that promise to be even better today than yesterday.”

“I could eat. Last I ate was just after sunrise.”

“Where were you?”

“Small fishing village in Greece.”

“Hmm. Fishing or painting? I want to see your art.”

“It’s in the bag.”

“I’ll wait. If you need anything just holler.” Bucky walked toward the door, Steve took a chance, and laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder before he walked passed.

“Thanks Buck.”

“Whatever for?”

Steve scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck, “You really gonna make me say it?”

“I don’t make you do anything Steve.” Bucky said with a subtle laugh.

“We both know T’Challa could have put me up. Thanks for not making me be alone.”

“I figured you had your reasons, no need to thank me Steve. We’ve always been this for each other. Yeah, I remember more now. This much I know.”

* * *

 

**Bucky’s POV**

Yeah, he knew this guy. His friend was so much more familiar than he should be, in spite of the scraggly hair, lightened by the sun, his face a couple of shades too dark. Those features weren’t remotely familiar. Yes, his hair had always had a stubborn bent, but it had always been kept short. His complexion had never seen a hue darker than pink. It was this downtrodden air that was not only a feeling Bucky himself felt in his bones, knew too well from his time after Hydra, it also perched ironically in the stubborn set of Steve’s shoulders. This version of Steve, even though twice as big, he appeared beaten down, but ready to fight back, and that was what was so familiar. That was so very Steve.

Bucky left Steve to the privacy of the room to shower. He allowed for at least thirty minutes, expecting more like an hour, even though Steve looked like he might tumble out of the shower onto the bed and not surface for two or three.

Bucky put leftovers into the oven and sat across the room by his modest window on his low couch, he looked out the window and thought about the lack of ‘work’ he and Cristina had accomplished, even though they’d settled that peaceably with a promise to regroup later. They’d fixed a light lunch together, with Bucky showing Cristina one of Rehena’s recipes.

When Bucky finally heard the water turn off, he reached across the couch for his phone and sent a message to Cristina, “Steve’s here. Maybe in the next day or so we can all talk.”

“Let me know.” She responded, “Be nice.”

Bucky smiled and sent back, “I’m always nice.” He saw the shadow in the doorway to his bedroom. Unaccustomed to it, and having not heard Steve’s footsteps he tensed, then relaxed remembering. “Hey, feel better?”

“Much.” Steve said leaning against the doorframe, “Thanks. I hope I wasn’t in there too long.”

“You could have been in there for an hour and not even lose temperature. I expected, wait, _were_ you in there for an hour?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Steve sighed, “Leftovers smell good. Mind if I help myself?”

“Go for it, plates to the left, forks in the drawer under that. There’s beer and soda in the fridge.”

“You having any?” Steve asked, dropping his sketchbook on the coffee table before walking around the island that divided the room.

“Yeah I’ll get it when you’re through.” Bucky reached for the sketchbook, watching as Steve pulled out two of everything, dished up a plate for Bucky, as well as his own, and balanced the two plates in one large hand, while carrying two bottled beers by their necks in the other.

“Stubborn shit.” He laughed, taking the plate from Steve, setting the book on the couch by his thigh.

“It’s “polite”.” Steve parroted as he sat on the couch with enough room to angle to face Bucky.

“You’re the second person to throw that back at me today. You ever think about the lessons we were taught?”

“I think about our Mas all the time.” Steve leaned toward the coffee table, hovering over the table with his bottle before setting it down.

“I can scarcely remember her face.”

“I dream about them, from time to time. You got her eyes.” Steve said before biting into the savory casserole. He reached for the book and opened it to a page of full of smallish sketches.

“She don’t need ‘em.” Bucky teased.

“Jesus Buck.” Steve chuckled, sputtering beer. “Your timing is terrible.”

“What? I waited on purpose.” Bucky laughed.

“I…” Steve stopped. Put a big bite of casserole into his mouth, avoiding Bucky’s gaze.

“You what?”

“No. I just…”

“You were gonna say something and retracted it.”

“Ok, yeah. I’ve missed this. Not just these months past, but…”

“Yeah. There’s a lot that was stolen from the two of us. Stuff neither of us is allowed to be sorry for.”

“Rehena?” Steve smirked, brushing sauce from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“She’s got this quiet wisdom. She can make a comment and walk away and it settles around you in her absence. You should work in her garden for a couple of weeks. You’d see what I mean.”

“I can do gardening. I’ve hauled fishing nets. I’m not above hard work.”

“I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your stubborn streak.”

“I honed that, bone and blood. It’s not goin’ anyplace.”

Bucky shook his head, no, he guessed it wasn’t, Erskine’s serum and Stark’s machine couldn’t burn it out of him, the ice couldn’t freeze it out of him, and time was doing a piss-poor job of eroding it, and Bucky was glad.

“I wouldn’t be here if it had gone someplace.”

“I wouldn’t either, Buck.” Steve said with a tired smile. He set his half-eaten plate on the coffee table, “Food’s great, but I think I need to put a few winks in before I could eat another bite.”

“Go. The shades are automatic, darkens the room as much or as little as you need. There’s music or quiet, whatever you need. Door’s pretty solid so anything I do in here should be nothing more than a whisper.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“You have to ask?” Bucky stood up and picked up both plates. “I’m disappointed.”

“Sorry. I’m just exhausted. Thanks for everything.”

* * *

 

**Steve’s POV**

He sat on the edge of the sofa looking at Bucky, this version of Bucky was so much like he remembered, and in Steve’s current state, this was a welcome thing. When he was “that little guy” he’d hated needing to be cared for, but after ages on his own, he missed it. He wouldn’t make a big deal out of it though. He’d just savor the encouragement, the warmth, and the food.

“Good food, Buck. You made that?”

“Yeah, cooking… who knew? I really enjoy it though and Rehena’s given me so much in the way of produce and information. It’s – it’s really rewarding.”

“You may never get rid of me.” Steve teased. He was pleased when the look he got wasn’t an anguished one; instead it was an exaggerated eye-roll and sigh.

It took all of Steve’s emotional strength to motivate his muscles to stand and walk back to the bedroom. Steve looked around the room, monochromatic greens, much like the rest of the apartment. There were three framed photos on the one uninterrupted wall, two black and white photos of trees, stout, robust trees with detailed trunks flanked a color photo of tall, slender birch trees, their black and white trunks backed by green leaves. The trio, and the room’s color palette made the room feel calming. Steve picked up the remote control by the bed that was labeled, probably for Bucky’s convenience, or his memory. Either way, it saved him minutes of trying the wrong buttons for things. He darkened the room, turned on some soothing music and eased back against the pillow.

Steve’s day replayed in his head, but as tired, and as anxious as he’d been when the events had unfolded, they seemed to settle around him as soothing waves in the distance. Smiling families, cool morning colors, all lulled Steve into a welcome slumber.

* * *

 

**Bucky’s POV**

As the door closed between them, Bucky thought about similarities and differences. Bigger, Steve, the apartment, the space between them. It was all bigger. Once in his life, there had been this smaller guy, his friend, who had thwarted all attempts to coddle him. Bucky knew better. Let him fight. He was, from birth, a fighter. So when the mothers tried to mother. When the only interested gals were the smothering type, Steve fought. When someone called him out for his crooked spine, or his weakened lung capacity, Steve fought. When challenged, Steve rose to it with a ‘fuck you’ attitude. Bucky had seen what others had missed. Raw determination would push the weakness and illness to the back, to the veritable alleys of Steve’s subconscious. You let Steve have the ideas. If he needed rest or sleep, he had to decide. They’d hole up in one or the other’s small apartment and after commiserating over the latest game scores, or debating the merits of knowing how to dance, or a vast number of other possibilities, Steve would say “I’m beat.” And Bucky would sit and listen to his friend’s breathing, and think about going to that dance, but as often as he’d get up and leave Steve sleeping to go dancing, he’d settle down and look at the latest sketches, and editorial cartoons, grateful for a friend like Steve.

Bucky looked at the page Steve had opened the sketchbook to and his fingers traced a lovely likeness of his own Ma laughing with Sarah Rogers. It was realistic and cartoonish at the same time, and he smiled. “Ah Ma… I’ve seen so many things. Some were even good. What would you think of your boy?”

Bucky sat for quite a while, looking at the one image. He was grateful she didn’t see what had happened to him, even though he wished that he could just be folded into her arms again. That always used to make things right. From scrapes and bruises, to the day that he ran home crying, terrified that Steve would die from Pneumonia and she cooed and sang to him, praying into the wee hours of the morning. Praying for Steve, but also praying to demonstrate the strength of her faith to her young son. The picture before him was familiar, the moms always ganging up on their young boys, laughing at their antics, laughing together at each other’s jokes.

Bucky was startled from his thoughts by the chime on his phone. He looked to find a text, “may I come over?”

Bucky sent a quick “yes” and set the book on the table, still open to the picture filled with love.

“I’m actually downstairs. I’m glad you said yes.”

Bucky opened the door before she could knock and pulled her into his arms, hugging her close to him.

“Hey, what’s all this?” Cristina asked, bringing her hand to the back of his head and threading her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know how you do it?” He murmured into her hair, inhaling her scent.

“I don’t know either. What'd I do? are you ok? Is Steve? What’d I miss, huh?” Her voice took on a soothing, melodic sound.

“Everyone's ok, I got a little caught up in history. I needed this. I need this.” His arms tightened slightly around her and she laughed.

“I’m happy to be of assistance.” He felt her breath on his neck before her kisses warmed his throat. “Tell me?”

He pressed his nose into the warmth of her neck, feeling her pulse, steady and soothing. I’m afraid you’ll get mad if you think I’m using you as a substitute.” He finally admitted, pulling away from her.

“A substitute for what?” She asked, amused.

“My mother?” His raised brow and quirked smile made her crinkle her nose and she pushed at his shoulder.

“Now tell me everything before I pass judgement.” Cristina sat on the sofa, in the spot opposite the one she knew he liked. Bucky sat next to her, near his corner, but not in it.

He took her hand in his left, reaching for the sketchbook with his right. “That’s my mother. This is Steve’s. Winnifred and Sarah.”

“Beautiful.” She said, waiting for more.

“I asked Steve about her, she came up somehow.” Bucky shook his head. “After a century.”

“You’re regaining memories, it makes sense.”

“It does? That I’d only just _eventually_ think about her?”

“You make it sound like the other things you had to work through weren’t horrifying and precedential. The important thing is how did you _feel_ when you thought _about her_?”

“Oh?” Bucky was so glad she was here, “Is that your best Rehena question? It’s a good one. You were very kind not to imitate her while you were at it.”

“Stop.” She smiled bashfully at him. “You’re a jerk.”

“I know.” Bucky bumped his shoulder against hers. “I felt good, and concerned, and sad.”

“Good. That’s good, concerned about what?”

“What she’d think of how I turned out.”

“You? You’re smiling, you’re laughing with a girl, who you _claim_ makes you happy. You’ve got space to explore your next moves. You’ve turned out pretty good. She’d be proud.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you did mean. I also know you’re worrying for nothing. If she’d have known, she was a mother, so she’d have torn hell and earth apart to make it right, and to tear those vile bastards down.”

“I’m glad she didn’t know. It would have broken her heart.”

“I’m glad you say “it” and realize that _you_ wouldn’t have broken anything. Oh, and if you want to hug me, while missing your mom, or for any other comforting reason, don’t ever think I’m getting mad about it. Are you two _men_ too _manly_ to hug it out?”

“No, just too raw, I think.”

“Does that mean I’m going to have to hug him too, when he comes around? You could both use some warm hugs. Lots of them.”

* * *

 

**Reader’s POV**

I don’t care how obvious I was. So his poignant confession of missing his mom made my heart break a little. Anyone _with_ a heart should feel moved.

“I take it my abrupt appearance wasn’t _impolite_?”

“Three.” He said with disbelief.

“Three what?”

“This is the third time that “polite” thing has been thrown back at me, twice by you, and once by him.”

I took advantage of the moment and moved into _his_ corner of the couch. “Throwing someone’s words back into their faces is very impolite. Here, I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?” He asked, turning to look at me.

“Lie back.”

He scooted to lie with his head in my lap and I started playing with his hair, lazily twisting and finger-combing it.

“I like that you know.” He said, looking up at me.

“I know. I do too.”

“I’m glad you came by. It wasn’t impolite at all. Thank you Cris.”

“Anytime. You know that.”

“I know.” Bucky reached up and brushed my cheek.

“So if you go to sleep, will you hate me if I rummage through your kitchen to make dinner for the three of us?”

“Who says I’ll go to sleep?” He asked, sleepily.

“I just said if. I mean I want your permission in the off chance you’ll fall asleep. I just assumed the two of us would cook.”

“If it happens, you have my permission.” He answered. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep yet.

“Thanks. Both of you are big eaters, I hope your kitchen is ready.”

“Should be.” He muttered. “I mean, enough for now. Should probably go to the market tomorrow, wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” I figured I’d make a list of things he’d probably not think about, having two mouths to feed, while I was in the kitchen. I knew it would be a few more moments before he’d really be out. “Tell me something about your mom.”

“She smelled nice. Clean, and like summer. She used to sing, she had a soft voice. Steve says her eyes were like mine. I just don’t remember them like that. Mine are hard, judgmental.”

“That’s how you see them in your reflection. You’re judging yourself in the mirror. When you look at me, or even at Rehena and Steve, you have warm, kind eyes. They’re beautiful, like the misty morning sky over Wakanda and warm like a wool blanket.”

“That’s what I remember from her, softness and warmth.” He sighed. “So they’re not hard as steel?”

“They can be, but only sometimes. I’m willing to bet when your mom went into mother-bear mode, your mom’s got steely too.” I was certain of it, actually. I started braiding the side of his hair nearest to me. I got both sides braided and a few braids in the top of his hair before he quieted and dozed. I finger-combed the ends of the braids back into the rest of his hair before I attempted to get up from under his head. A throw pillow would have to do in place of my lap.

It was quiet in the kitchen, a mild tune floated to the periphery of my hearing every once in a while, the volume from the living room so low that only certain notes hit me. I made up the difference, singing what I thought I heard or making things up as I went.

It was pretty easy to keep the rattle of dishes to a minimum, but the aroma as things started to heat, wasn’t as easy to contain. After a while, Steve appeared at the edge of the counter.

“Hey.” He said from behind a curtain of blond streaks.

“Hey.” I smiled, finding his tired blue eyes searching the stove. “It’s meat sauce for a rice dish. I hope you’re hungry, or will be in an hour or so.”

“I’m gonna be hungry.” His voice was still laced with sleep.

“Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet.”

“I could barely hear anything. Buck’s right. Decent door, decent sound containment.”

“Welcome back. You’ve been missed.”

“You think?” he asked with a smirk, settling onto the barstool.

“I know. I’ve missed you. He’s missed you too. What is it about boys? Why can’t you just say stuff like that? You’d think that after all that you two have seen and lost, you wouldn’t be so afraid of feelings. Imagine you told him what he meant to you back in the war.”

“Aw, he knew.”

“That’s what I mean. Guys always assume people _know_ how they feel. All the while, they’re toughening up their exterior just so that people can’t _see_ what they’re feeling.”

“That’s…” He paused. Good, I’m glad he stopped. That meant I didn’t have to stop him. “You know? That makes too much sense.”

“Nothing ever makes too much sense. Some people are just too stubborn to see it until it’s either a danger or it’s stuffed under their noses. Feelings – caring for someone – is not the danger, Captain.”

I stopped. That was all Rehena. I was impressed with myself for that little assertion, but I’d better quit while I was ahead.

“You’re right.” He said, coming around to the kitchen. “So an hour huh? I didn’t finish my lunch, what do you recommend?”

“I recommend a nice piece of freshly grown fruit, some local cheese and that you keep your voice down.”

“How long’s he been out?”

“About an hour. Do me a favor?”

“Sure.” He didn’t even hesitate. I was pleased.

I stepped closer, whispering so that _just in case_ Bucky was awake, he would have less chance of hearing. “Could you draw a less stylized picture of his mom, maybe with him, side by side? I want him to see how you see him, as opposed to the way he sees himself.”

“I’d be happy to.” Steve answered, stepping back, his smile faltering, wavering between smile and maybe pain.

“If you can’t…”

“No. That I can do. You’re really very good for him Cristina, _you_ might not want to let those feelings stay hidden.”

“Cut it out. For that, you can get your own snack.” I teased, pushing him toward the fridge. “Quietly.”

We worked together well, him slicing cheese and fruit, me stirring sauce and watching, I couldn’t help but admire his skill and grace. Must be hard to be that good looking, graceful, and so adaptable.

I glanced across the island, to the couch, to see Bucky watching me. I smiled as he scrutinized the situation. “Hey. Sleep well? Can I get you anything?”

“What’s cooking?” he asked, sitting up, yawning, and stretching.

“Meat sauce. We’ve got a little longer before it’s ready.” I filled a glass with water from the pitcher in the fridge and took it to him, “Sleep well?”

“Sorry ‘bout that. I wasn’t going to.”

“You weren’t _planning_ to.” I said, putting a hand on his knee, “you were always _going_ to.”

“Oh, get me on a technicality. Thanks for this.” He covered my hand with his, smooth cool metal, practically silent.

I turned my hand into his. “It’s just water. Plenty more where that comes from.”

“You’re very funny. You’re trusting him in the kitchen?”

“Now who’s funny?” Steve said from across the room. “Snack?”

“Depends. You try it first.” Bucky teased.

“Be nice.” I nudged his leg with mine, “I don’t think anyone can mess up slicing cheese and fruit – at least as long as they keep all of their digits.”

“I don’t want any digits in mine. Keep your fingers Steve.”

“I thought we could all talk about what you and I didn’t get to discuss, over dinner, if everyone’s ok with that?” I looked from one to the other, Steve wasn’t sure what I was talking about, which I knew would be the case.

“Cris and I were talking about how to help your friends. Or more appropriately, we were going to talk about it, but decided we needed your input.”

“I’m all for talking,” Steve said, rounding the island to settle in the squat, square chair adjacent to the sofa, “I’m actually going to meet with T’Challa about it, so any extra insight is welcome.”

“I didn’t say we had any insight. Just a strong willingness to help out.” Bucky smirked, taking some of the fruit and cheese from the plate Steve set on the coffee table.

“I haven’t been able to think of much else. I’ve collected and indexed a bunch of legal documents. I’ve read through and notated the parts that I thought would be useful.” I reached into my bag, pulling out my tablet, “Bucky told me that you’d come to the same conclusion that I had. At that point, we decided to wait and talk to you. I thought you’d want to look them over.”

“I appreciate it. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. Both of you.”

His gratitude was warming, and though I’d felt inadequate not bringing answers, he didn’t allow that feeling to stick around.

We spent the rest of the time the sauce was simmering, reading over, and talking about different points, not finding any reason for them to be imprisoned. The time they’d spent already incarcerated had been against their basic rights. Maybe they’d face a trial, but even then, it would be for the damages done at Leipzig, and the punishment would be spread across the entire group of fighters.

“I’m another story entirely.” Bucky said, putting rice into three bowls. “I’ll have to face a trial, no matter what.”

“Your residency in Wakanda could bring the hearing here – an impartial land where you have committed no crimes. If T’Challa helps you fight the extradition, we could do it. It’s a good thing you weren’t involved in T’Chaka’s death, but it invalidates your extradition, because there’s no crime to be prosecuted. If the extradition were still valid, they could absolutely keep you here for a trial. Ok, maybe not _that_ trial, but it would be harder to fight.” I watched him, much of his demeanor was unruffled, but underneath, there was tension. “T’Challa will help, he’s already promised as much.”

“You know I’m there, wherever it ends up.” Steve said, taking his bowl, and sitting at the island.

“Me too. I’ll get the time away, you deserve as many friendly faces there as you can get.” I promised, scooting his bowl and mine across the island.

“Ok, first things first. Everyone else.” Bucky said, pulling drinks from the fridge. “I can manage the rest when it comes to it. I’ve got you guys, I’ll deal with it.”

The sound of utensils in bowls was the only noise for some time, before Bucky spoke up again. “It’s not the hearing that worries me. It’s not even the prison sentence. It’s the fact that neither one of them is as scary to me as the thought of something happening to you two because of me, or Hydra getting their hands on me again. Those are my biggest fears. Who’s to stop them from getting their hands on me _in prison_?”

“We won’t let that happen.” Steve was quick to answer. I knew what was coming next, which is why I was waiting to formulate my answer.

“How can you promise that?”

“He can’t. I can’t. We’ll do everything we can to ensure your safety before and after, if it comes to it. Like you said, everyone else first. That gives us an army and time to plan.”

“Not exactly an _army_ Cris.” Bucky said.

“Your personal squad. I’d like to say platoon, but even in spirit, I’m afraid you’d argue accuracy.”

“I might not, if you’re counting the size of the spirit of my squad. This is good Cris. Thank you for fixing it.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for trusting me alone in your kitchen.”

“I almost reconsidered when I saw you let this guy in there.”

“Hey.” Steve complained. “I’ve learned a thing or two. I’m not useless in the kitchen, now that I have access to one without being bothered every time I moved to turn the stove on.”

“If you hadn’t almost burned the building down on multiple occasions, I wouldn’t have to warn you away.”

“I burned one dish. One time.”

“The rest of the time, the food was just inedible.”

“You ate it. You’re such a jerk.”

I watched them laugh, while thinking about that first day, when all Steve wanted was for Bucky to have a chance. When he told me stories, they were about exactly this kind of behavior, and witnessing it was like a gift.

After dinner, I pulled Bucky aside, “I’m going to go, the late night is catching up to me, you’re ok now right?”

“I’m fine. Your timing today was perfect. Thanks for not judging me.”

“For what? Needing a hug? Here – have another.” I tugged him close, linking my fingers through his belt-loops. His arms tightened around me and we swayed just a bit.

“Thank you Cristina. Thank you for perfect timing, for dinner, and for this. This is my favorite.”

“Mine too.” I said leaning on him, resting against his shoulder. “Call me tomorrow, after sunrise, unless you need me.”

“Let you sleep in unless it’s an emergency. Got it.”

“Not emergency. Any reason. I never should have said anything.” I tugged him closer, kissing him. “Call me for anything. Repeat after me. Don’t listen to Cristina when she’s tired.”

“God Cris.” Bucky kissed me, burying his forehead in my neck when he was done. “You’re as weird as he is.”

I shoved at his shoulder, “I’m glad you’re ok. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye pretty girl.” He waved when I was out the door. “Be safe.”

* * *

 

**Bucky’s POV**

He closed the door behind her, wondering why the words “I love you” almost fell out of his mouth. That wasn’t fair to her, not right now. Bucky turned to see Steve sitting on the couch, reading, flipping through the documents Cristina left behind on her tablet.

“You speed read. You’ve got all that memorized. What do you say to dessert and a movie?”

“You remember all that?”

“I do. I remember a lot of things. I also remember what you looked like with short hair.”

“Yeah, I remember that about you too.”

“I almost got it cut recently.” He thought about the look of shock that had crossed Cristina’s face, when he told her. She didn’t say anything, but had spent hours braiding and playing with it, reminding him how much he loved that. “Weirdest thing – you can’t laugh – I like when Cris messes with it.”

“I knew that. She soothed and relaxed you by doing so that day at Rehena’s. I’m going to get mine cut, T’Challa has offered his barber.”

“Well, you _could_ use the royal barber, or you could ask me to do it. I mean, professional? Or professional assassin?”

“Funny. You always did a good job.”

“Hey, if I didn’t this time, you could always have the royal barber fix what I ruined.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, if you're still with me. I have no self-control when it comes to ideas that pop up, and a bunch of stories demanded my attention, while this one said "hey man, it's cool, we're chillin' here in Wakanda until you get back to us". I hope my readers are as chill!!

**Steve’s POV**

Steve had been escorted into T’Challa’s formal office when he’d arrived five minutes early. He set Cristina’s tablet and all of his notes on the table next to the sofa on the wall, and paced, looking alternately out the window, and at the few items on display. Nothing personal was in here; it was all geared toward business. He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised; this was _not_ a personal visit.

“Steve.” He was pleased with himself that he didn’t jump, but even though they’d agreed on first names, for some reason his train of thought and the formal surroundings had him surprised to hear the familiar greeting. “I am sorry for making you wait. I have so many things to do in the office today, I would have had you come to my apartment, but this was the only time I had available.”

“I thought it was due to the nature of the visit. Thank you for seeing me T’Challa.”

“Oh no. The nature of the visit is important, that is true, however it is a personal matter, and convenience was the only reason we are here instead of relaxing elsewhere. How has your stay been so far?”

“Bucky and I are working around each other well enough. I’m starting to feel like I need to get my hands dirty. Sitting around, even when I was in South America, I didn’t do a lot of that. I did manage to find work to do in addition to taking time for painting and drawing.”

“Have you seen our digital art technology? Perhaps that is something you would like to try? I believe our developers are at the point where some artistic variety would be appreciated.”

“I could be persuaded.” Steve admitted, reining in his excitement.

“That is not what you came here to talk about, though, is it?”

“Well, of course we both know that.” Steve nodded. “Can I ask where you are in the discussions?”

“There has been quite a bit of reconsideration where The Accords are concerned. Several countries have withdrawn their support due to some of the language used in the text. People are just now getting an opportunity to read the chapters thoroughly. It isn’t as secure as they, or we, were led to believe. As for the laws that we all disregarded, they were not ratified, but there were still other laws and ordinances that were overlooked, some recompense will be required.”

“That doesn’t all sound bad.” Steve offered, considering T’Challa’s words. “We – Cristina and I – had come to a similar conclusion, and I have some details she worked out, if you think they’d be worth considering.”

“I would like to take a look at them. She is a bright strategist, as I’ve heard you are. Her skills are not to be dismissed.”

Steve picked up the tablet, scrolling through the files, “I borrowed this, lacking my own.” He said as he found the files he’d marked for sending. “I’ll send them to you”

“When you are in the academy, have them give you the newest device. It is my gift to you, in return for your help in the art department.” Steve nodded briefly, shock rendering him speechless, T’Challa smiled and continued, “Regarding James and his situation, there will have to be a hearing. I am trying to have it done here. I have been very lazy in reporting to them regarding his progress in hopes that we can keep things here, and quiet. I have extended an invitation to the leaders of the nations directly impacted by the deeds of The Winter Soldier. I would like to speak to them, and I would invite you to speak to them, to gauge their receptiveness to a peaceful resolution.”

“You mention me, but what about Bucky?”

“I will talk to him; I don’t want to subject him to anything in the preliminary phase, if he’s not ready for it. Certainly, if he is interested in attending – he will be welcome – or he can wait for a more formal occasion.”

“So, we could be nearing a resolution on all fronts. Bucky really seems to be happy here, he’s connecting with Cristina, and has become part of the community, if he’s acquitted, would he be able to stay if he were to choose to?”

“James is – and I hope I have successfully expressed as much to him – welcome here as long as he wishes. I have some ideas for him, if he wants to consider them. I also know he’s interested in cuisine, and there are options for him here to explore that as well. You should know, your invitation does not expire either.”

“I appreciate that. I look forward to slowing down a little.” Steve answered earnestly. “I hope I can be of service to your design team, and I hope, if you think of something else I can do to help, you’ll let me know.”

“Trust me, I will come find you as soon as I have the proper job for you.”

**Bucky’s POV**

Steve left to meet with T’Challa, after a quick shower followed their run together. Bucky took his time in the shower, enjoying his day off, which was becoming a much less frequent thing. Day’s off were now something he looked forward to having. Typically, he’d spend them with Cristina, but she’d had to take a trip out of the country. Bucky tried not to put too much energy into worrying about her, she wasn’t a target if he wasn’t with her.

He walked in the direction of Rehena’s home, taking the long path, and gathering wild berries and some wildflowers, which he’d learned from Rehena would make good tea, along the way. He rarely showed up at her home without something in hand, especially if it was for a social call. He felt ok about arriving empty handed if he was able to leave with tired ones.

“Hello!” Rehena called out to him when she saw him approach the garden wall.

Bucky smiled, “Hi. I hope I’m not a nuisance. I was alone, but not too thrilled about the idea. I come bearing gifts.”

“You don’t have to bring something every day,” Rehena walked toward the gate, meeting him as he unlatched it. “What did you find?”

“Some berries, some blossoms. There’s honey out there to be had, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

“Ooh, the hives. Are you sure that is an adventure you want to experience?” Rehena took the baskets from him, and led him to the kitchen door.

“After you mentioned it, I looked into it. I think I’m ready for that, yeah. I’m calm, feeling pretty mellow. Stings won’t affect me like they would you – and this thing – it doesn’t smell like _people_.” Bucky smirked, holding up his hand. “Maybe I should become a professional beekeeper, or at the very least I could make a living harvesting wild honey.”

“Let us find out if you like the chore, before you make it your life’s work. Have you eaten? You can help yourself to whatever you find while I shower. I have been working in the garden and most certainly _do_ smell like people. They won’t like that at all.”

“I’ll sample some of this goodness.” Bucky said, uncovering the baked goods she had on the stove. “I’ll also swipe some fruit from your basket.”

“We are going to have to have another breakfast with Steve and Cristina, when everybody is in one place, so you can show off your skills two-handed.” Rehena teased from the bathroom door. “I will be quick.”

Bucky smiled as he bit into the pastry, he believed she would be very conservative with the shower, so he picked up a plum and pared it into slices, popping one into his mouth before taking another bite of pastry.

He just finished when Rehena came out dressed in clean, long pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. She gathered up some supplies, handing him a smoker and wood chips, a lighter, and took a stack of containers for the honeycomb for herself. “You’re ready for this?” She asked again. “Should be a good morning for it.”

“I’m ready. Let’s go terrorize some bees.”

The look she gave him, disapproval mixed with unwilling humor, her nose scrunched up and her wide grin, made him laugh. “We shall not be terrorizing the bees. We are going to be doing everything we can to _not terrorize the bees_.”

“I know.” Bucky grinned. “They’ll still be a tiny bit terrorized though. I’ll be gentle.”

They walked quietly to the spot where Bucky had seen the hives. Rehena and Bucky worked together to prepare the smoker, both enjoying the peaceful surroundings for different reasons. Rehena instructed Bucky as they approached, he stepped toward the drooping hives, cautious, but calm. The buzzing wasn’t a distraction, nor did it make him nervous, in fact, it was a white noise that he could use to center his calm even more. He started smoking them out, watching as little clouds of bees left the clouds of smoke. He was still enough when bees landed on him, that he could feel them tickling his skin. A few fought back stinging him, but he’d faced harsher pain, and the nuisance stings were just a distraction.

His metal arm was convenient, he could be careful, without being too cautious. He pulled hunks of sticky covered wax comb away, holding them over the containers Rehena had brought as a few lingering bees hovered around them. As the malingerers disbursed, he set the combs down in the first container, and covered it, moving to another hive, and repeating his process.

The buzzing inspired him to start humming a song he couldn’t recall how he knew. “I want you to come on, baby; Now and take a walk with me. I want you to come on, baby; Now and take a walk with me. Well, then I asho’ you this won't nothin' bother you. I'll be yo'are little honeybee. I will make you honey in the mo'nin'; Now an I will make you honey at night. Now I will make you honey in the mo'nin'; Now an I will make you honey at night. Now then, I will make you honey three times a day; Baby, if you would just treat me right, now”

“You are going to scare them away. Or depress them singing the blues.” Rehena’s amused voice reached his ears.

“Nobody’s depressed hearing the blues.” Bucky countered, filling another container with wax and honey.

“I’ll sing, you be quiet and harvest.” She chuckled, gathering wildflowers for tea. “How many stings?”

“I lost count, but I think they’re healing as fast as they had been stinging. One thing I can’t bemoan about my whole existence, at least things like this are easier.”

After a few more hives, Bucky looked at his sticky surroundings, and smiled. He took a deep breath once he determined he wasn’t going to inhale any honeybees, and turned to Rehena, “I think we can leave the rest?”

“You were very ambitious, yes, we will leave the rest for another time, or another animal.” Rehena wiped the edges of the containers before securing their covers and gathering half of them.

Bucky collected the rest, as well as the smoker, and followed Rehena to the path. “You found some more flowers, there’s going to be a lot of drying to do.”

“You are drinking all of my tea, I have to do something.”

“Look, I know the dried ones are used faster than I can bring in the fresh. This is why I try not to come empty handed.”

“I am only joking with you. I wanted to send some more tea home with you for Steve. Tell him how it helps your sleep. Maybe it will help his nightmares too.”

“I’ll do that.” Bucky smiled, “He’s meeting T’Challa today.”

“How are your nerves?” Rehena kept walking, but matched her pace to his.

“I’m concerned for Steve, I don’t know if he’s getting into my business yet, but he’s restless and doesn’t _like_ being on the wrong side of the law. It was all for the right cause, but it’s wearing on him. He went to talk with T’Challa about The Accords, and their legality.”

“What will happen when everybody is exonerated?”

“I don’t know if any of us have dared to have that thought yet. I’d like to stay here a while, if at all possible. I’m learning from you, and from myself. I’d be able to help out in almost any capacity. T’Challa has already tapped into my skills, he’s welcome to do so again.”

“As long as he is responsible, and as long as the things he has you do are above board.”

“Of course, I’d never even considered the alternative.”

“All kings are subject to temptation. Always question the value of the return on what you are doing.”

“I suppose that could be said for all people. You’re right. I think, after the rough start we had, he’s learned a valuable lesson about temptation.” Bucky replied, appreciating that one of the closest friends of the king of his current home was looking out for him.

“That is true. Are you planning to stay and finish the honey?”

“Of course, I want to do it all.” Bucky finagled the gate, and held it open for Rehena, gathering the containers that he’d set down, and following her into the yard.

“We should do this inside, so that the bees do not try to come and repossess their honey.”

“and so that the flies don’t decide to bother us.” Bucky agreed. He watched as Rehena gathered two large colanders, two thick wooden spoons, and one sharp knife. He pulled out two pots and they started trimming the combs, putting them into the colanders over the pots, and he watched as Rehena started pressing the comb into the colander, smashing it up and releasing the honey.

He followed her lead, enjoying the sweet fragrance that was emitted from the colander beneath him. Rehena started singing the Honeybee song he’d been singing, and then changed to a traditional Wakandan tune. Bucky enjoyed the process of mashing honeycomb, listening to her voice as it told a story in the form of song. His Wakandan was coming along nicely, so he was able to understand most, and pick up the rest of the story.

Bucky started singing the shanty “New York Girls” and his pace picked up, Rehena laughed at him, and told him he’d better slow down. “The spoon cannot take your enthusiasm much longer.” She giggled.

“Oops.” Bucky smiled. “Hey, the shanties, they were made for working.”

“It will get the job done, and somebody with ordinary strength would be fine to go as fast as you were going.”

“That’s true. Would you look at all this honey? I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Sometimes things are not what they seem. It will be nice for you, to have your own honey, that you harvested yourself, don’t you agree?”

“I didn’t think about it that way.”

“You cannot do all the work and then not take home some of the spoils. You get to reap the rewards of your labor.”

“That is something I’m only just getting used to Rehena. I haven’t come to the part where I expect to reap rewards. I’m at the point where doing it myself, because I want to, is the reward.”

“It is time to step it up, and start expecting things for yourself. Expect a hearing, expect the right to speak for yourself, expect fairness. Just like you expect honey from a hive.”

“When will you start taking payment for therapy, Rehena?”

“I am not giving you therapy, I am giving you advice, as a friend would do. If you ever call my office and make an appointment, I will have to refer you to somebody else, because I will not be able to treat you. You and I, we have become friends, have we not?”

Bucky smiled a tender smile, looking at their sticky hands and her vibrant grin. “That we are. Thank you Rehena.”

They finished extracting the honey, and Rehena covered the colanders. “We will let this sit, come by tomorrow, and you can strain it, and we will make something out of the wax, if you are interested.”

“I’m interested. You know? I might have been teasing about this, but it could be fun. I wouldn’t mind doing it at least as a hobby.”

“Good. Hobbies are a good thing to have.”

Bucky helped clean up the stickiness, before announcing that he should get home. “I’m getting more and more curious how things went for Steve.”

“I can see why. Thank you for the berries and flowers. I will see you tomorrow for the rest of our project. Have a good afternoon Bucky.”

“Thank you for having me, again.”

“Putting you to work on your day off.”

“No, not at all, this was fun. I don’t always have fun here, but I always enjoy being here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rehena chuckled at Bucky’s honesty. Sure, hard work wasn’t fun, but he still enjoyed it. The sense of accomplishment, building, creating, and cultivating, instead of the opposite, and Rehena’s companionship were all very enjoyable.

Bucky headed for home with a jar of tea for Steve. He looked forward to the honey he’d bring home tomorrow. He wasn’t sure he could keep it to himself, so he hoped there was at least some positive news, so that he could blab for a while about harvesting honey. He was sure that if the news were bad, he’d no longer feel inspired to share.

**Steve’s POV**

Steve went straight from T’Challa’s office to the University’s Art Department. He was met by eager art majors, and professors, who were working on an advanced drawing tablet. The demonstration was efficient, even with the excitement of the students, who had made a programming breakthrough just before Steve had arrived.

Steve paired up with the student who had developed the software he’d be using, talking to him about the nuances of the device, the software capabilities, and art in general. When he left the studio, he felt inspired.

He met Bucky at the building entrance. “Hey Buck.”

“Hey. Great timing. I picked up something to eat, if you’re hungry.” Bucky said, as he opened the door to the building. They walked up together, Bucky thought he looked incredibly disheveled next to Steve’s ‘going to a meeting’ attire. The thought amused him.

“Yeah, I could eat. I think that’s the one thing I forgot to do today. What’s so funny?”

“We both dressed for success today.” Bucky laughed. “I hope you accomplished as much as I did.”

“I’ll tell you all about it over food.” Steve said, smiling, “If you return the favor.”

Bucky plated the food, sticking it into the oven to warm it up, “I’ll do you one better. I’ll tell you first. I harvested wild honey today.”

“Really?” Steve was interested in how this came about, and about the process, really.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to sit around here all day worrying and wondering about you and about Cris, so I headed to Rehena’s. Brought some flowers for tea – she sent you some tea by the way – and saw some hives in the trees, so we went harvesting.”

“I’ll have to go and thank her for the tea. At least we’ll have wild honey to sweeten it.”

“Yeah, tomorrow. You’ll have to suffer one day. We had to let the rest of the honey extract from the wax, tomorrow we’ll strain it and I’ll bring some home.”

“Ok, fine.” Steve conceded. “How did you harvest wild honey?”

Bucky told Steve all about the process, talking as he pulled hot plates out of the oven, and over mouthfuls of food. “What about you?” he finally asked. “You don’t seem stressed, does that mean things are looking up?”

“Things are looking, promising.” Steve answered, considering which to lead with. He decided to lead with Bucky’s information. He explained T’Challa’s suggestion of a meeting between just the leaders of the countries directly affected by his crimes under Hydra’s control.

“That sounds fantastic.” Bucky responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I know, it sounds terrifying to me, but it could be worse. He’s going to fight extradition requests as long as possible, this is possibly the best scenario.”

“Oh, sure it is, I get it. It just freaks me the fuck out Steve. These people want my head, and they’ll be _here_ where I live, with their security, and possibly their bounty hunters.”

“You’re still under T’Challa’s protection. You might not have as much freedom when they’re here, but you’ll be safe. The question is – if they want to speak with you, before a formal hearing, would you be willing?”

“That’s a great question, and I’ll tell you what. I’m going to be drinking some of your tea tonight, and trying not to consider that question until tomorrow. I don’t want nightmares tonight. I had a great day.”

“Maybe I can improve things. Cristina was right. T’Challa’s planning to go the route she suggested. He’s going to look into her notes, to see if anything will help his argument. The Accords are falling apart, and he’s going to see what he can do to keep them safe for all parties.”

“You’ll sign them if they’re well-thought-out?”

“Maybe, if all areas of concern are addressed. If they don’t tie anybody’s hands in the event of emergencies and if they don’t infringe on people’s rights, I’ll consider it.”

“High hopes for government sanctions.” Bucky shook his head, “I’m not signing any government anything. I’m a free agent. Last time I signed on for a government we all know what happened.”

“You know there’s about one tenth of a percent chance that they’ll come up with something I feel is reasonable, right?”

“You’re an optimist.” Bucky laughed. “I like that about you. There’s zero point zero percent chance that anything good comes from a government contract. The only contract I want signed, is back pay and discharge. You could do well with the same. You’re still tied to the government.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I know Steve, it’s _not_ the same. None of this is the same. You wanted to defend your country, you did that. What are you defending now?”

“It wasn’t the country, you know that. It was oppression. It’s still out there, you of all people know about being oppressed.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. It’s been almost a century and it’s still the same. How can one man change anything?”

“That mess in Leipzig was the exception to the rule. It’s not just one guy. You saw what both sides accomplished, a mess, but together? Together that team, they’re not making dents, they’re making huge craters.”

“Is that team ever going to be _together_ again?”

“I like my odds with the ones who will.”

“SO you’re fighting, still.” Bucky’s smile was strained. Steve wanted to laugh at how little had really changed. They could be standing back at the fair, with Bucky telling Steve he could do other things, and the frustration on both sides was still the same. “You know you’re forcing my hand, right?”

“I never said you had to – of course.” Steve smiled fondly, “you never did “have to”.”

“I’m going to spend my free time harvesting honey, and getting to know Cris. I don’t want you calling me in the middle of the night unless your ass is on fire.”

“I’m going to spend my free time working with some art students testing a new program they’re developing. I don’t expect any ass fires any time soon.”

“You sure about this?”

“I’m sure I’m not signing anything. I’m sure I will still help people, even if it’s covert.”

Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky broke out in fits of laughter. He waited, just enjoying the fact that his friend _could_ laugh. Once Bucky quit, Steve spoke, “I’ve learned a lot recently, I’ll have you know.”

“I’ll give you that. But thanks for the laugh, sorry, it struck me funny.”

“It is hard to view the shield, the suit, and the group of people I hang out with as covert. It’s not like you, leaping off of buildings, and blowing up freeways, that’s pretty secretive.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Bucky grinned.

Steve laughed, enjoying the fact that not only could they actually discuss real things, real possibilities, but that they could tease each other. “T’Challa said you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, even after whatever hearings happen. He’s optimistic about your future, and so am I.”

“I’m starting to feel a little tickle of optimism. You know? I kind of expected you to tease me about the honey thing.”

“Why? You seem to enjoy all of the things you’ve been doing with and for Rehena, why would I tease you?”

“I’m a little disappointed that I haven’t heard anything like “that’s sweet” or “that stings”.”

“You give me so little credit. You have to wait a few days, and then, just maybe, I’ll ask, “What’s the buzz?”.”

“Ok, there it is.” Bucky rolled his eyes, clearing the dinner plates. “For that, the ice cream is all mine.”

“You might want to watch your sugar intake, you don’t want the bees mistaking you for nectar.”

“Bad form. I expected better from you.” Bucky teased back, as he scooped ice cream into two bowls.

“Do you think you could be happy somewhere outside of Wakanda, Buck?”

“Steve, happiness is only temporary. I’m going to take it where it presents itself, and right now, this is that place. One day, something is going to happen that neither of us will be able to sit by and watch. We both have our reasons for getting out there, but finding happiness in the spaces in between will have to do.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think either of us would be settling for long either. What does that mean for you and Cris?”

“I don’t know. That’s something I can’t deal with right now. I want to explore the happiness I’ve found with her. I know I’ll have to have a discussion with her at some point. This relationships with people thing is harder than I remembered it being.”

“It’s not easy.”

“Have you heard any more from Sharon?”

“Nat is looking, or doing the best she can anyway.”

“You’ll hear something then. If she’s doing her best, you can guarantee results.”

“Yeah, I guess her reputation precedes her.” Steve smiled, thinking about his friend, and the last time he saw her.

“She leaves a lasting impression.”

Steve couldn’t process the look that flashed across Bucky’s face, but it was gone so quickly, it would be stupid to bring it up. Their run-ins must have had an impact, and it would be up to Bucky to open those particular boxes.

“So tell me about this art project.” Bucky said after loading their dishes into the dishwasher. He walked to the living room, and sat down in the corner of the couch where he always seemed most comfortable.

Excitement bubbled back to the surface as Steve pulled the new tablet out of his bag. He sat next to Bucky so that they could easily see the screen, and opened the software. “It’s an advancement on what’s available right now, I’m going to use it, testing it and offering feedback. This stuff reminds me of some of the things I’ve seen in Tony’s lab, but it’s all for art.”

“Have you ever done digital art?”

“I was starting to before Sokovia, I didn’t get back to it as much as I should have, but I think between what I remember, and what they showed me today, I’ll be ok.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” Bucky smiled, flipping the remote upright and turning the television on. “If this will be a bother?”

“No, go ahead, I don’t mind the background noise, actually.”

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky watched Steve pull his legs up onto the couch, one folded under the other, he was reminded of a smaller version of this view, in their apartment not long after Steve’s mom passed. He had been sitting on the sofa with a newspaper, the radio on in the background, and Steve pulled out a tablet and started to draw.

This was the same moment superimposed over a memory. Bucky smiled as he watched the baking show.

Artist’s hands moved intentionally over the tablet, and Steve would blow imaginary hair from his face, a habit long ingrained in him. It was a familiarity that Bucky enjoyed. Being in quiet moments with Steve were the best link to his past, and falling into timeworn habits always brought memories and feelings forward, that he could let settle around him like autumn leaves, to be gathered later.

He thought about the brief moment while they were talking about Natalia, they were in different worlds now, he remembered pieces of their past, she remembered none. It was a piece of his past that he could feel good about.

The phone rang and brought him from his thoughts, picking up the device, he saw Cristina’s picture smiling at him, another redhead. He had a type. “Hey Cris. How’s the trip?”

“Bucky! I’m so glad you answered.” Her voice sounded tired, but she sounded ok.

“You’re safe?” he asked anyway, because he wasn’t there and he needed the reassurance.

“I’m safe, just exhausted. These meetings have been such a drain. I just wanted to hear your voice, it’s been days, I should apologize.”

“You don’t have to, I’ve been keeping busy, harvested wild honey today, if you’d believe it.”

“We can make honey candy when I come home.”

“Ooh, I almost remember how Steve’s ma used to make that. Yes, absolutely.” Bucky said, craving the scent and the flavor instantly.

“I’m glad I can make you happy.” She said, he thought she was probably smiling, he knew she was twirling her hair, she always did when she was tired.

“You do make me happy. You know what will really make me happy?”

“No, you’ll have to tell me.” Cristina answered, stifling a yawn.

“If you go get some rest.”

“That was next up. I just wanted to check in. Tell Steve I said “hi”.”

“I will. Come back soon, I could use another hug.”

“Two more days. Hold out that long, or hug Steve. Hug Steve for me if you don’t do it for yourself.” She joked, “Good night Bucky.”

Bucky smiled after ending the call. He was rocked out of his thoughts by Steve’s foot nudging his leg.

“Hmm?”

“What was that about my ma?”

“Honey candy. She said we should make some when she gets home, do you remember it Steve?”

“Do I?! It was made for birthdays, and get-well gifts. I remember she’d break off a piece when I was sick and tell me to suck on it. That never worked.”

“I’ll have to see about harvesting more honey; it sounds like you’re going to make keeping it around a difficult thing.”

“I could be a problem.” Steve grinned, “Hey, wanna see what I’ve got so far?”

“Yeah, oh, does that thing have one of those holographic displays? I’d like to watch the process without poking my head over your shoulder; I know how much you hated that.”

“You were a nuisance, hot breath breathing down my shirt, how do you expect me to be creative?” Steve shook his head, as he swiped the display.

“What? You’re drawing me again? Steve, anybody tell you, you need a new hobby?”

“You were available, looked peaceful, and I don’t need to make excuses dammit. You’re my friend and your face is one I’ve drawn so often, I could almost do it in my sleep.”

“Yeah, you need a new hobby.” Bucky teased, “I like it though. I really like where you’re going with this. Maybe Cris would like a print.”

“Maybe I’ll consider it. For Cris.”

“I almost told her I love her.”

“What stopped you?” Steve looked up from the tablet.

Bucky’s face grew warm, and he felt uncomfortable, registering it as embarrassment, he shrugged, “I can’t trust my emotions. I have to theorize and postulate to determine if I’m embarrassed right now, how can I know if _love_ is what’s going on in this bag of hormones?”

“I guess that makes sense, you have a lot to get used to, no rush.”

“But what if I say it? I spew those words, and then realize later that I wasn’t right? I’m going to hurt her.”

“I’m not exactly the right person to give relationship advice, but I can say that those words are nice words. Maybe – if this makes no sense, feel free to tell me so – talk to her. Explain that you’re still figuring out the intricacies of emotions, tell her what you almost said, and that you know there are different kinds of love. That you’re exploring what it means.”

“That makes sense in theory, but aren’t relationships made or broken by those problems?”

“No. That I know. Relationships are made by being open, and broken by not communicating. Cristina is a very open-minded person, she would be the best person to talk about that particular problem with. It covers you in the event you say it, and still don’t know what kind of love you feel for her.”

“I’ll take your advice into consideration.” Bucky said, sitting back against the couch, watching Steve’s sketch progress while a presenter discussed how to make a torte.

**Author's Note:**

> Please take a moment and let me know what you think - comments are inspirational :)


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